The Dark Side of Close Relationships II

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The Dark Side of Close Relationships II

The Dark Side of Close Relationships II sheds light on the paradoxical, dialectical, and mystifying facets of interpersonal relationships. This volume showcases completely new work, moving forward from the unique contributions of the 1998 volume. This collection includes cutting-edge work on important topics in relationship studies, written by prominent scholars in a variety of disciplines. Among the chapter topics are: Age-gap relationships, Internet matchmaking services, in-law relationships, stepfamily relationships, living single, and women’s relationships with incarcerated men. Collectively these works demonstrate that integrating both dark and bright elements offers a nuanced understanding of close relationships. Appropriate for scholars, practitioners, and students in communication, social psychology, personal relationships, sociology, and counseling, this volume will also serve as a popular text in graduate courses exploring interpersonal communication, ethics, and relationships. William R. Cupach received his Ph.D. in Communication Arts & Sciences from the University of Southern California. Currently he is Professor of Communication at Illinois State University. In addition to numerous monographs and journal articles, he has co-authored or co-edited 12 books. He previously served as Associate Editor for the Journal of Social and Personal Relationships and is a past President of the International Association for Relationship Research. Brian H. Spitzberg received his Ph.D. in Communication Arts & Sciences from the University of Southern California. He is now a Professor in the School of Communication at San Diego State University. He has conducted extensive research on topics related to interpersonal communication skills and competence. He has published numerous scholarly articles and chapters, as well as co-authoring or co-editing the previous four editions related to the dark side, and two books on interpersonal competence.

Titles of Related Interest

Spitzberg/Cupach, The Dark Side of Interpersonal Communication, 2nd edition Cupach/Spitzberg, The Dark Side of Relational Pursuit Spitzberg/Cupach, The Dark Side of Close Relationships

The Dark Side of Close Relationships II

Edited by

William R. Cupach Brian H. Spitzberg

First published 2011 by Routledge 270 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016 Simultaneously published in the UK by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business

This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2010. To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk. © 2011 Taylor & Francis The right of William R. Cupach and Brian H. Spitzberg to be identified as authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters has been asserted by them in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark Notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data The dark side of close relationships II/edited by William R. Cupach, Brian H. Spitzberg. p. cm. Interpersonal communication. 2. Interpersonal conflict. I. Cupach, William R. II. Spitzberg, Brian H. BF637.C45D335 2010 158.2--dc22 2010002847

ISBN 0-203-87437-4 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 13: 978–0–415–80457–8 (hbk) ISBN 13: 978–0–415–80458–5 (pbk) ISBN 13: 978–0–203–87437–0 (ebk)

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ontents

Preface Notes on Contributors

1. Overview of the Dark Side of Relationships Research

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Daniel Perlman and Rodrigo J. Carcedo

2. May–December Paradoxes: An Exploration of Age-Gap Relationships in Western Society

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Justin J. Lehmiller and Christopher R. Agnew

3. Fairytales and Tragedies: Narratively Making Sense of the Dark Side (and the Dark Side of Making Sense) of Personal Relationships

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Jody Koenig Kellas, Erin K. Willer, and Haley Kranstuber

4. Dark Sides of Computer-Mediated Communication

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David C. DeAndrea, Stephanie Tom Tong, and Joseph B. Walther

5. Internet Matching Services: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (Disguised as Attractive)

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Susan Sprecher

6. Affectionate Communication is Good, Except When it Isn’t: On the Dark Side of Expressing Affection

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Kory Floyd and Perry M. Pauley

7. Infidelity: When, Where, Why

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Irene Tsapelas, Helen E. Fisher, and Arthur Aron

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CONTENTS

8. Relational Turbulence: What Doesn’t Kill Us Makes Us Stronger

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Denise Haunani Solomon and Jennifer A. Theiss

9. In-Laws or Outlaws: The Dark and the Bright in In-Law Relationships

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Mary Claire Morr Serewicz and Rebecca A. Hosmer

10. Dark Clouds with Silver Linings: The (Dys)Functional Ambivalence of Stepfamily Relationships

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Paul Schrodt and Dawn O. Braithwaite

11. Women’s Relationships with Incarcerated Men

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Susan A. Miller and Diane H. Felmlee

12. The Meaning of Girls’ Social Aggression: Nasty or Mastery?

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Erin K. Willer and William R. Cupach

13. Intimate Partner Violence and Aggression: Seeing the Light in a Dark Place

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Brian H. Spitzberg

14. Narcissism and Relationships: From Light to Dark

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Joshua D. Foster and Jean M. Twenge

15. Living Single: Lightening Up those Dark, Dopey Myths

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Bella DePaulo

Index

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P reface

Now light cross-examines the darkness and takes newer proportions: the babblings of terror and hope, the debate of our wisdom, compelled to change its receptacles.

Pablo Neruda suggested in verse what we have hoped the dark side perspective will elicit and evoke in those who traverse its paths. In examining issues from a dark side perspective, we experience newer proportions, and change our theoretical receptacles for understanding our interactions and relationships. The “dark side” continues to thrive as an important and pervasive theme in the study of interpersonal interaction and close relationships. This is evidenced by the number of university graduate courses focusing on the dark side of relationships, the amount of textbook space increasingly devoted to the subject, the number of convention programs sporting dark side themes, and the degree of research attention paid to dark side topics in influential journals. Clearly the dark side metaphor holds popular appeal for students of relationships and stimulates valuable research and discussion among scholars. The dark side attempts to shed light on the paradoxical, dialectical, hidden, and forbidden facets of human relating. The purpose is not merely to elucidate dysfunctional relationship phenomena. As Duck opined in our inaugural dark side book (1994, p. 20), “Like the dark side of the moon, the dark side of relationships can be found to co-exist in the same entity as the light side. We need to explore and understand it not in itself but in its relation to everything else that has ever been learned about relationships.” The dark side draws attention to the fact that negative or dysfunctional outcomes can

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occur in relationships even when positive and functional ones are expected. At the same time, there are often positive silver linings in seemingly dark relational clouds. The dark side embraces and promotes the need to integrate dark and bright aspects of relationships in order to reveal a more nuanced understanding of human interaction. This current compilation significantly updates and extends our previous three edited dark side volumes (Cupach & Spitzberg, 1994; Spitzberg & Cupach 1998, 2007) and our ongoing interest in dark side topics (Cupach & Spitzberg, 2004), The Dark Side of Close Relationships II assembles a completely new collection of original essays, featuring new topics and different authors. Reflecting the interdisciplinary nature of the study of relationships, the current book showcases prominent and emerging scholars from the disciplines of anthropology, communication, psychology, and sociology. In the opening chapter, Perlman and Carcedo set the stage by providing an overview of dark side relationships research. Reflecting on the work published in the preceding dark side volumes, the authors review how the dark side has been conceptualized and what specific topics have been investigated. They consider such questions as: What is the relationship between darkness and non-dark aspects of relationships? Does the dark side qualify as a scientific concept? Why is darkness important? The authors also reflect on theories used to understand dark aspects of relationships, and the methods used to investigate darkness. They offer recommendations for advancing the dark side of relationships research. Chapter 2, co-authored by Lehmiller and Agnew, explores the paradox of age-gap romantic relationships (aka May–December relationships). The authors consider a variety of social psychological theories to explain why people are likely to desire younger or older romantic partners. In addition, they discuss the effects that being in such a relationship have on romantic outcomes, and they present an agenda for future research on this topic. In Chapter 3, Koenig Kellas, Willer, and Kranstuber explicate the dark and bright sides of narratively making sense of close relationships. They review literature on the benefits and risks of making sense of relationships via stories across the relationship life cycle. Then they illustrate the bright sides of applying narrative sense-making to the dark side of close relationships. The chapter both advances an agenda for future research and suggests practical strategies for coping with relational difficulties. DeAndrea, Tong, and Walther argue in Chapter 4 that whatever social good or ill individuals or groups may be inclined to bring to a situation, the Internet allows people to accentuate these tendencies. The authors reveal the double-edged sword of Internet interaction by exploring three specific topics: Excessive online social interaction, virtual communities supporting harm and hatred, and destructive attributions in online workgroups. Both desirable and undesirable features of these activities are reviewed.

PREFACE

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Chapter 5 by Sprecher reviews Internet matching services whose purpose is to help singles find long-term partners. After presenting a brief history of computer and Internet match-making sites, the author discusses the methodological challenges of researching Internet-initiated relationships. In addition to summarizing the virtues of Internet matching, Sprecher elaborates on the risk of being victimized, physically or emotionally, and the related risk that the people encountered online may not be who or what they represent themselves to be. Other costs of seeking partners through Internet services, such as shallow relationships and foregone opportunities, are also discussed. Floyd and Pauley elucidate the paradox of affectionate communication in Chapter 6. After reviewing some of the benefits accrued from affectionate communication, the authors summarize key theories that help to explain why affectionate behavior is sometimes problematic, and they spell out how affectionate expression can potentially be negative for both senders and receivers. Drawing on psychological, sociological, biological, and anthropological perspectives, Chapter 7 provides an overview of infidelity research, with an emphasis on current trends in the field. Tsapelas, Fisher, and Aron explore theoretical perspectives applied to the study of infidelity, and consider avenues for future research, including methodological advances and the benefit of exploring the functional ambivalence of infidelity. In Chapter 8 Solomon and Theiss illuminate transitions as turbulent and consequential episodes in romantic relationships. Highlighting both the dark and bright sides of relational turbulence, they present their own theoretical perspective and corresponding research to explain the impact of transitions on personal and relational well-being. They also suggest an agenda for future research into the threats and opportunities created when romantic relationships experience change. Morr Serewicz and Hosmer enlighten the nature of in-law relationships in Chapter 9. After establishing the broader positive context of in-law relationships, the authors analyze the challenges inherent in such relationships. A summary of the ways in which theory has been applied to in-law relationships precedes a review of important research findings. The authors analyze scholars’ arguments about the root causes of difficulty in negotiating the inlaw relationship and propose directions for future research. In Chapter 10, Schrodt and Braithwaite characterize existing research on stepfamily relationships. They contend that (dys)functional ambivalence is not only fundamental to the experience of stepfamily members, but may constitute one of the defining features of stepfamily functioning. Three specific sources of ambivalence that distinguish the stepfamily from other family forms are offered, and future research paths are indicated. Miller and Felmlee investigate the nature of women’s relationships with incarcerated men in Chapter 11. Drawing on insights from social exchange

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theory and theories of social inequality, the authors pursue the following questions: To what degree are the women who visit prison inmates satisfied with their relationships with their husbands or boyfriends? How committed are they to staying in these relationships? What factors influence their degree of satisfaction with, and commitment to, their relationships? The authors present original empirical data to answer these questions, and to provide a window into the burdens faced by a large, often ignored, and disadvantaged segment of society. Willer and Cupach expound on the phenomenon of mean girls in Chapter 12. They briefly review research regarding the adverse consequences of social aggression, and then propose two theoretical frameworks that aid in understanding the motives underlying girls’ social aggression. These frameworks suggest that some aspects of girls’ social aggression are functional and adaptive. Guidelines are offered to optimize the utility of social aggression intervention efforts. Spitzberg unravels the issues surrounding intimate partner violence and aggression in Chapter 13. He exposes a number of prevalent myths concerning intimate partner violence, and proposes an alternative set of evidence-based maxims to replace them. Building on this framework, he offers a reconfiguration of concepts for theoretically modeling intimate partner violence, and guiding future theory and research. In Chapter 14, Foster and Twenge address the subject of narcissism in relationships. They review literature demonstrating that narcissism has a mostly negative impact on relationships with others, but in some circumstances it can be positive. They integrate these opposing findings by suggesting that narcissism facilitates relationship formation and short-term relationship functioning, but undermines long-term relationship functioning. In the final chapter, DePaulo offers a detailed analysis of myths surrounding singlehood. She tackles cultural depictions, conventional wisdom, and research interpretations to debunk myths that suggest the lives of single individuals are inferior to the lives to those who are partnered. Her analysis is insightful and provocative. We wish to express our deep appreciation to Linda Bathgate, who has enthusiastically supported our dark side (publication) endeavors since the inception of the first volume. We also thank Katherine Ghezzi, Linda’s associate at Routledge, who shepherded this volume. Finally, thanks to our own professors, our students, our colleagues, our former authors, and the many thinkers, artists, and scholars who continue to inspire. We hope that our own pursuits in the dark side continue to cleanse the lenses of perception, so that, as Neruda once more reminds: Those who open the doors of the earth will find in the darkness, intact and complete, the light of that system’s transparency.

William R. Cupach and Brian H. Spitzberg

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REFERENCES Cupach, W. R., & Spitzberg, B. H. (Eds.) (1994). The dark side of interpersonal communication. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Cupach, W. R., & Spitzberg, B. H. (2004). The dark side of relationship pursuit: From attraction to obsession and stalking. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Spitzberg, B. H., & Cupach, W. R. (Eds.) (1998). The dark side of close relationships. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Spitzberg, B. H., & Cupach, W. R. (Eds.) (2007). The dark side of interpersonal communication (2nd ed.). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

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ontributors

Christopher R. Agnew (Ph.D., University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill) is Professor and Head of the Department of Psychological Sciences at Purdue University. His research focuses primarily on interpersonal relationships, with emphasis on commitment, social influence, and dissolution processes. He has published widely and served on numerous editorial boards. He was the recipient of the Early Career Award from the Relationships Researchers Interest Group of the Society for Personality and Social Psychology in 2003 and was elected Fellow of the Association for Psychological Science in 2006. Arthur Aron (Ph.D., University of Toronto) is a Professor of Psychology at Stony Brook University. His research centers on the self-expansion model of motivation and cognition in personal relationships. He is a Consulting Editor for the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology and serves on the editorial boards of Personal Relationships and the Journal of Social and Personal Relationships. He is a fellow of the American Psychological Society and the American Psychological Association, and principal investigator on a major National Science Foundation research grant. Dawn O. Braithwaite (Ph.D., University of Minnesota) is a Willa Cather Professor of Communication at the University of Nebraska–Lincoln. She studies how those in personal and family relationships communicate during times of family transitions and challenges. Her published work includes 80 articles and chapters and five books. She received the National Communication Association’s Brommel Award for Outstanding Scholarship/Service in Family Communication. Braithwaite is a past President of the Western States Communication Association and the President of the National Communication Association in 2010.

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Rodrigo J. Carcedo (Ph.D., University of Salamanca) is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Developmental and Educational Psychology at the University of Salamanca (Spain). His research has been focused on sexuality and personal relationships of prison inmates. He is an active member of the International Association for Relationship Research and has been a Visiting Professor in the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. He received the Outstanding Research Award in Sexuality sponsored by the Spanish journal Sexología Integral. William R. Cupach (Ph.D., University of Southern California) is a Professor in the School of Communication at Illinois State University. His research pertains to problematic interactions in interpersonal relationships, including such contexts as embarrassing predicaments, relational transgressions, interpersonal conflict and criticism, social aggression, and obsessive relational pursuit. He previously served as Associate Editor for the Journal of Social and Personal Relationships and is a past President of the International Association for Relationship Research (IARR). His 2004 book, The Dark Side of Relationship Pursuit: From Attraction to Obsession and Stalking, co-authored with Brian Spitzberg, received the Outstanding Book Award from IARR. In 2005 he received the Outstanding University Researcher Award from Illinois State University. David C. DeAndrea (M.A., University of Delaware) is a doctoral student in the Department of Communication at Michigan State University. His research interests revolve around impression formation, social influence, and behavioral attribution processes in computer-mediated contexts. Bella DePaulo (Ph.D., Harvard) is a Visiting Professor of Psychology at the University of California, Santa Barbara. Her primary area of interest is in single life and the place of singles in society. She has also published extensively on the social psychology of deceiving and detecting deceit. DePaulo is the author of Singled Out: How Singles Are Stereotyped, Stigmatized, and Ignored, and Still Live Happily Ever After and she writes the “Living Single” blog for Psychology Today. She has served in a variety of leadership positions in professional organizations, and has been honored with numerous awards, such as the James McKeen Cattell Award and a Research Scientist Development Award. Her website is www.BellaDePaulo.com. Diane H. Felmlee (Ph.D., University of Wisconsin) is a Professor of Sociology at the University of California, Davis. Her research focuses on relationship breakup, disenchantment and attraction, social networks, gender, and quantitative methods. She is the past President of the Mathematical Sociology Section of the American Sociological Association (ASA) and serves on the Methodology Council of the ASA.

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Helen E. Fisher (Ph.D., University of Colorado, Boulder) is a Research Professor in the Department of Anthropology at Rutgers University. She studies human romantic love, marriage, adultery, divorce, gender differences, and temperament. Her books include: Why Him? Why Her?; Why We Love; The First Sex; Anatomy of Love; and The Sex Contract. She recently presented lectures at: The World Economic Forum (Davos), TED, Aspen Institute, Harvard Medical School, The United Nations, The Smithsonian, and Salk Institute. Her recent articles appear in the Journal of Comparative Neurology, Journal of Neurophysiology, and Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society: Biological Sciences. For her work in communicating anthropology to the lay public, Helen received the American Anthropological Association’s Distinguished Service Award. Kory Floyd (Ph.D., University of Arizona) is Professor and Associate Director of the Hugh Downs School of Human Communication at Arizona State University. His research focuses on the expression of affection in personal relationships and on the interplay between affectionate behavior, physiology, and health. He has written eight books and nearly 75 journal articles and book chapters on the topics of affection, health, family relationships, and nonverbal behavior. He is immediate past Editor of Journal of Family Communication and was the 2006 recipient of the Gerald R. Miller Award for Early Career Achievement from the International Association for Relationship Research. Joshua D. Foster (Ph.D., University of Georgia) is an Assistant Professor of Psychology at the University of South Alabama. His primary line of research focuses on the causes, consequences, distribution, and measurement of narcissistic personality. He has also published research on topics including the self, relationships, decision-making, aggression, and evolutionary psychology. In 2009 he received the Early Career Award for research from the College of Arts and Sciences at the University of South Alabama. Rebecca A. Hosmer (Ph.D., University of Denver) is an instructor at the University of Denver and a freelance editor for Antioch University. Her work is focused in the area of loss and family communication. She also researches the areas of in-law communication, conflict resolution, and public speaking. Jody Koenig Kellas (Ph.D., University of Washington) is an Associate Professor of Communication Studies at the University of Nebraska– Lincoln. Her research focuses on the communicative ways in which people make sense of their relationships and lives. She examines how family identity, satisfaction, and functioning relate to narrative content and the interactional behaviors that characterize joint storytelling. Dr. Koenig

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Kellas also studies attributions, accounts, facework and post-dissolutional communication. She is the Chair of the Family Communication Division of the National Communication Association and recently won the Central States Communication Association’s Outstanding New Teacher Award. Haley Kranstuber (M.A., Miami University) is a Ph.D. student in Communication Studies at the University of Nebraska–Lincoln. Her research focuses on the way family practices influence the psychological and physical well-being, identity, and worldview of family members. Specifically, her areas of research include narratives, boundaries and messages within adoptive families, family messages as they relate to childhood obesity, and the intergenerational transmission of family stories. Justin J. Lehmiller (Ph.D., Purdue University) is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Psychology at Colorado State University. His areas of research include marginalized and secret romantic relationships, interpersonal commitment, prejudice and discrimination, and human sexuality. As a student at Purdue University, he was a recipient of the Graduate Student Award for Outstanding Teaching as well as the Graduate Research Publication Award. He is currently serving on the editorial boards of Personal Relationships and Social Influence. Susan A. Miller (Ph.D., University of California, Davis) is a Professor in the Department of Behavioral Science at Palomar College in San Marcos, California. Her research and teaching interests include gender, social relationships, statistics, and social psychology. She was the recipient of a Dissertation Fellowship for her research on relationships between women and their incarcerated partners. She has served as an editorial board member of the journal Sociological Perspectives. Mary Claire Morr Serewicz (Ph.D., Arizona State University) is an Associate Professor in the Department of Human Communication Studies at the University of Denver. Her research focuses on in-law relationships, privacy, and transitions in family and romantic relationships. She received the 2003 Outstanding Dissertation Award from the Interpersonal Communication Interest Group of the International Communication Association and serves as the 2009–2010 Chair of the Family Communication Division of the National Communication Association. Perry M. Pauley (Ph.D., Arizona State University) is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Human Communication Studies at California State University, Fullerton. His research interests focus broadly on the intersection of personal relationships and health. Perry is currently interested in the ways that supportive communication mitigates the effects of stress and the role that close relationships play in drug and alcohol use.

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Daniel Perlman (Ph.D., Claremont Graduate University) is Professor of Human Development and Family Studies at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. In recent years he has addressed such areas as loneliness, the maintenance of relationships, the problematic aspects of relationships, the relational aspects of human sexuality, and the historical development of the close relationships field. He previously served as Editor or Associate Editor for four journals including the Journal of Social and Personal Relationships and Personal Relationships and is a past President of the International Society for the Study of Personal Relationships. Paul Schrodt (Ph.D., University of Nebraska–Lincoln) is the Philip J. and Cheryl C. Burguières Distinguished Professor and Associate Professor in the Department of Communication Studies at Texas Christian University. His primary research interests include studying communication behaviors that facilitate healthy and satisfying stepfamily relationships, help mitigate feelings of triangulation and conflict in family relationships, improve co-parenting relationships in stepfamilies, and enhance the mental health and well-being of individual family members. He is a former corecipient of the Franklin H. Knower Article Award from the Interpersonal Communication Division of the National Communication Association (NCA), as well as a former Chair of the Family Communication Division of NCA. Denise Haunani Solomon (Ph.D., Northwestern University) is a Professor of Communication Arts and Sciences at Penn State University. Her research focuses generally on the causes and consequences of turbulence in romantic associations, as well as how communication participates in those experiences. She has studied how relationship qualities, such as power, relational uncertainty, and interdependence shape people’s perceptions of and communication about relational irritations, jealousy experiences, hurtful messages, and experiences of stressors related to breast cancer and infertility. At Penn State, she currently serves as the Associate Dean for Graduate Studies in the College of the Liberal Arts. Brian H. Spitzberg (Ph.D., University of Southern California) is a Professor in the School of Communication at San Diego State University. His areas of research include interpersonal communication skills, conflict, jealousy, infidelity, intimate violence, sexual coercion, and stalking. He also serves as an active member of the San Diego District Attorney’s Stalking Case Assessment Team, and is an active member of the Association of Threat Assessment Professionals. His 2004 book, The Dark Side of Relationship Pursuit: From Attraction to Obsession and Stalking, co-authored with William Cupach, received the Outstanding Book Award from the International Association for Relationship Research. In 2009 he received

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the Outstanding Scholar Award from the Western States Communication Association. Susan Sprecher (Ph.D., University of Wisconsin) is Distinguished Professor in the Department of Sociology and Anthropology (with joint appointment with Department of Psychology) at Illinois State University. Her research interests have focused on attraction and relationship initiation, love, sexuality, and influence of social networks on intimate relationships. She has served as Editor of Personal Relationships (2002–2005), and recently co-edited (with Harry Reis), the three-volume Encyclopedia of Human Relationships. Jennifer A. Theiss (Ph.D., University of Wisconsin-Madison) is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Communication at Rutgers University. Her research uses the relational turbulence model to examine the ways in which interpersonal communication both shapes and reflects characteristics of romantic relationships, particularly during periods of transition and turmoil. She received the Best Dissertation Award from the Interpersonal Communication Division of the International Communication Association in 2006 and she has been honored with several top paper awards from the National and International Communication Associations. Stephanie Tom Tong (M.A., Michigan State University) is a doctoral student in the Department of Communication at Michigan State University. Her research interests focus on processes of self-presentation, identity management, and impression formation in computer-mediated environments. Additionally, she studies the broader implications of technology on the formation, maintenance, and termination of interpersonal relationships, and organizational development and success. Irene Tsapelas is a fifth-year graduate student and Ph.D. candidate in the Social/Health Psychology program at Stony Brook University. Her research focuses on various aspects of romantic relationships, including falling in love, infidelity and attention to alternative partners, marital satisfaction, and the neural basis of romantic love and related processes. Jean M. Twenge (Ph.D., University of Michigan) is a Professor of Psychology at San Diego State University. Her areas of research include generational differences, social rejection, and the effect of media on personality. She is the author of Generation Me: Why Today’s Young Americans Are More Confident, Assertive, Entitled—And More Miserable Than Ever Before (Free Press, 2006) and the co-author of The Narcissism Epidemic: Living in the Age of Entitlement (with W. Keith Campbell, Free Press, 2009).

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Joseph B. Walther (Ph.D., University of Arizona) is a Professor in the Department of Communication and the Department of Telecommunication, Information Studies and Media at Michigan State University. His research focuses on relationship dynamics in computer-mediated communication, in personal relationships, virtual groups, educational, and intercultural settings. He has been Chair of the International Communication Association’s Communication and Technology division, and of the Academy of Management’s Organizational Communication and Information Systems division. He has twice been honored with the National Communication Association’s Woolbert Award for articles that have stood the test of time and led to new conceptualizations of communication phenomena. Erin K. Willer (Ph.D., University of Nebraska–Lincoln) is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Communication Studies at the University of Denver. Her research focuses on the communicative management of relational difficulty, such as social aggression and inter/intragroup conflict, in contexts including girls’ cliques and mother–daughter relationships. She also has received top paper awards from the Interpersonal Division of the Western States Communication Association and was selected as an American Association of University Women Dissertation Fellow.

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Overview of the Dark Side of Relationships Research Daniel Perlman and Rodrigo J. Carcedo

Relational life can be nasty, brutish, and short. Steve Duck (1994, p. 4)

Paul Shaffer’s movie, Amadeus, centers on the relationship between two noted musicians, Antonio Salieri and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. In the film, Salieri, the older of the central figures, is a rather staid, pious individual. Mozart, in contrast, is a musical genius who is boastful, immature, and lusty. Salieri was the court composer to Emperor Josef of Austria. In that position, he was the most famous, most successful composer in Europe— until Mozart arrived in Vienna. Once Mozart arrived, Salieri’s place in the musical limelight was diminished as Mozart and his music grew more popular. At first Salieri tolerated Mozart. Music was everything to Salieri, and he recognized that Mozart produced music filled with “the voice of God.” When, however, he discovered that Mozart committed adultery with a beautiful opera singer, Salieri’s righteousness triggered disdain for Mozart. It galled Salieri that a “giggling, dirty-minded creature” would be chosen by the Almighty to produce such wonderful music. Salieri asked God to give him greater talents but Mozart still outshone him. Salieri could not understand why God favored Mozart, such a vulgar creature, to be his instrument. Salieri’s hatred grew until he ultimately vowed to ruin Mozart. He made fun of Mozart’s personality. He wheedled so that Mozart no longer got pupils and watched passively as Mozart sank into poverty, unable to care for his family. At the end of his life, Mozart was reduced to performing in what today

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would be local, working-class bars. Alas, Mozart’s performances were unpopular with these audiences so proprietors quickly terminated Mozart’s engagements. While the other patrons scoffed at Mozart’s compositions, Salieri himself immediately recognized the genius of these works. In the end, which comes at the beginning of this movie, Salieri is a dying man in a mental hospital, mad. He confesses to a priest that he has murdered Mozart out of envy. He is racked with guilt. By cutting his own throat, Salieri tries to end his own life. Both his own and his adversary’s lives are ruined because of their rivalry. Not every relationship goes as far afoul as Salieri’s and Mozart’s, but many relationships do have negative, foreboding facets. Social scientists have been concerned with the negative aspects of relationships for some time. For example, Finkelhor, Gelles, Hotaling, and Straus (1983) published a book on The Dark Side of Families: Current Family Violence Research. Social psychologists such as Stanley Milgram were concerned with evil and destructive obedience (e.g., when people follow orders against their will that hurt another person, see Miller, 2004). Their efforts, however, were scattered, and not conceptualized as related to one another’s. William Cupach and Brian Spitzberg’s 1994 book, The Dark Side of Interpersonal Communication, was a turning point in this work. It brought together several previously disconnected lines of investigation and set them out as an area of study. Cupach and Spitzberg labeled and legitimated the dark side of relationships as a topic. Their book fostered more work, much of it published in journals and some in books (e.g., Fox & Spector, 2005; Goodwin & Cramer, 2002; Griffin & O’Leary-Kelly, 2004; Harden Fritz & Omdahl, 2006; Kirkpatrick, Duck, & Foley, 2006; Segrin, 2001; Shermer, 2004). But, Cupach and Spitzberg have retained a special place in the literature on the dark side of relationships. In particular, they have edited or authored five books (including the current one) that have reflected on and been central in the area’s development. The earlier books are: (1) The Dark Side of Interpersonal Communication (Cupach & Spitzberg, 1994); (2) The Dark Side of Close Relationships (Spitzberg & Cupach, 1998); (3) The Dark Side of Relationship Pursuit: From Attraction To Obsession and Stalking (Cupach & Spitzberg, 2004); and (4) The Dark Side of Interpersonal Communication (2nd ed.) (Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007a). Using these books as a key reference point, we want to reflect on the development and status of research on the dark side of relationships. The first part of the chapter will focus on the concept itself: How has it been defined and characterized? What specific topics have been most extensively studied?

1. OVERVIEW OF THE RESEARCH

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Are there different types of darkness in relationships? What is the relationship between darkness and non-dark aspects of relationships? Does it qualify as a scientific concept? Why is darkness important? Then we will reflect on theories used to understand dark aspects of relationships, and methods used to investigate darkness. We will conclude with some suggestions on how to advance the development of this field.

CONCEPTUALIZATION OF THE DARK SIDE What is Meant by the Concept of the Dark Side? A starting point in many areas of research is developing an appropriate definition and/or description of the key construct. Several attempts to characterize the dark side of relationships have been offered. Cupach and Spitzberg (1994, p. vii) initially depicted the dark side as an “interaction that is difficult, problematic, challenging, distressing, and disruptive.” In their second volume, these authors offered a broad description with seven main characteristics (Spitzberg & Cupach, 1998): (1) the dysfunctional, distressing, destructive aspects of human action; (2) deviance, betrayal, transgressions, and violations, including awkward, rude, and disruptive features of human behavior; (3) exploitation of victims; (4) the unfulfilled, the unpotentiated, underestimated, and unappreciated aspects of human endeavor, in other words, the worlds we wished we had created but did not; (5) the unattractive, socially isolated, unwanted, and repulsive; (6) objectification or treating a person as a thing; and (7) the paradoxical, mystifying aspects of life that things are seldom what they seem to be. These aspects emphasize the behavioral aspects of the dark side. From this vantage point, the dark side becomes largely synonymous with a set of aversive interpersonal behaviors, a notion that Kowalski (1997, 2001) has used. Kowalski (1997, p. 217) pointed out that “social behaviors are determined to be aversive when they either deprive people of valued outcomes or impose undesired outcomes.” Later, supporting a more subjective approach, she also defined them as “behaviors by another individual encoded by a target (i.e., victim) as stressful” (Kowalski, 2000, p. 7). People may be led to feel this stress as a matter of behaviors that:

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(1) connote relational devaluation of the target; (2) inform the target about uncomfortable characteristics of him/ herself; and (3) disrupt ongoing interactions. More recently, Spitzberg and Cupach (2007b) reflect back on their writing saying “we have to date restrained from formally defining the dark side” (p. 4). Instead, they describe the dark side as a perspective or way of asking questions that accepts that social processes typically involve losses. (See pp. 8–9 for more on Spitzberg and Cupach’s 2007b view). Beyond determining what social scientists consider as the dark side, we believe it would be valuable to know what the general population designates as “darkness” in relationships. The study of lay perception (e.g., prototypes) has been a profitable line of research in the close relationships area (e.g., Fehr, 1988, 2005). People’s prototypes influence what they remember about relationships and the judgments they make of how in love partners are. Presumably these processes influence the stability of ongoing relationships; that is, whether partners stay together or break up. There are some studies of laypersons’ perceptions of relational problems. For example, in their classic scale development work, Holmes and Rahe (1967) have shown that the death of a spouse partner and divorce are life events that people judge to require maximal social adjustment. There are also studies that look at lay conceptions of specific dark aspects of relationships such as anger, hate, and jealousy (Fitness & Fletcher, 1993). In the 1980s Horowitz and his associates (1980, 1982) explored prototypes as an integrating concept for interpersonal problems and showed that the frequency with which people experience semantically related problems (e.g., various difficulties being sociable) are positively correlated. To the best of our knowledge, however, there are no studies that examine laypersons’ definitions and views of the dark side of relationships as a broad, multifaceted concept. Work along these lines is warranted.

Which Aspects of the Dark Side are Most Frequently Studied? Another way of depicting the domain of the dark side of relationships is simply to identify the main topics that have been studied. To achieve this, we used the summary of aspects treated as the dark side by Spitzberg and Cupach (2007b, pp. 9–13) and Perlman (2000). These authors pointed out different aspects or contents (e.g., violence, loneliness, hurt, etc.) included by them as part of the dark side. We decided to investigate the number of times that these words appeared in the different books of the dark side collection, selecting each book separately in the Google Books website and including

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these terms in the search tool. We counted how many times these words appeared in each book and we sum it up for the four books, obtaining a total frequency. This method may not give an exact solution (e.g., compound words may have less probability of being found than single words and these counts include words in reference lists as well as the text), but it is a reasonable start to obtain an idea of what has been considered as the dark side (see Table 1.1). The most frequently identified topics include both behaviors (e.g., violence, threats, stalking) and emotions (e.g., anger, hurt, depression). TABLE 1.1

Aspects of Darkness Found in the Dark Side Collection DARK SIDE BOOK COLLECTION

Aspects of darkness Violence Conflict Jealousy Anger Threats Hurt Rejection Stalking Deception Depression Betrayal Teasing Loneliness Dissolution Bullying Divorce Negative emotions Sexual harassment Incompetence Fatal attraction Sexual aggression Hassles Enemies Shyness Annoyance

Cupach and Spitzberg (1994)

Spitzberg and Cupach (1998)

Cupach and Spitzberg (2004)

Spitzberg and Cupach (2007a)

Total

37 37 20 30 13 35 11 1 37 8 13 8 10 5 1 11 14 6 14 0 4 8 5 4 1

33 32 36 31 25 13 31 29 11 30 14 2 27 15 4 12 9 8 4 28 13 1 1 0 4

32 24 31 30 35 18 34 38 4 10 4 4 9 16 3 8 4 19 11 2 5 3 0 1 3

33 30 33 33 33 39 22 11 24 18 26 40 9 9 34 19 15 7 1 1 6 2 5 5 2

135 123 120 124 106 105 98 79 76 66 57 54 55 45 42 50 42 40 30 31 28 14 11 10 10

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Taxonomies of Darkness: What Types are There? Once concepts are defined, there is often a search for different varieties of the phenomenon. Duck (1994) and Perlman (2000) have each presented taxonomies or ideas about the ways the phenomena subsumed within the dark side can be further classified into different sub-categories. Spitzberg and Cupach (2007b) have also presented a scheme for delineating varieties of darkness. We will delay discussion of their scheme because it is not exclusively a taxonomy of darkness and because it addresses the relationship between darkness and light that we will consider in the next section of this chapter. Although not discussed further, other taxonomies have also been offered for selected aspects of the dark side including social allergens (Cunningham, Barbee, & Druen, 1997), the negative functions of relationships (Rook & Pietromonaco, 1987), and dysfunctional, negative selfpresentation behavior (Gardner & Martinko, 1998; Vonk, 2001). Duck (1994) has offered a typology of dark relational forms involving four categories (see Figure 1.1). First there are negative types of relationships such as those between enemies. Second, there are attempts to sabotage relationships via behaviors such as revenge, undermining, or needling. Third, there are acts such as betrayal and disappointments that constitute a spoiling of good relationships. Finally, there are the daily hassles and difficulties of being in a relationship—the occasional tensions, conflicts, and obligations that are an intrinsic downside to relating. Duck organizes his types along two dimensions: (1) negative relations and sabotage involve negative intentions while difficulty and spoiling involve good intentions; and (2) negative relations and difficulty are inherent in relationships while sabotage and spoiling emerge and perhaps are not necessarily inevitable. Perlman (2000) organized different frequent negative aspects of relationships in clusters: (1) entering and leaving relationships (including shyness, peer rejection, jealousy, dissolution of relationships, bereavement, loneliness); (2) problematic relationships (enemies, troublesome relationships, the cost of caregiving); (3) communication and interaction problems (deception, hurtful messages, conflict, offensive behavior, betrayal); and (4) abuse and sexual aggression.

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Emergent

Bad Intentions Toward the Other Person

NEGATIVE RELATIONS (Bullies; Enemies)

SABOTAGE (Needling; Revenge; Silent Treatment)

Good Intentions Toward the Other Person

DIFFICULTY (Conflict; Binds)

SPOILING (Betrayal; Regret)

Figure 1.1 A Taxonomy of “Dark” Relational Forms (source: Duck, 1994, p. 16)

Looking back at Table 1.1 showing the dark topics studied, the most frequently cited type would be abuse and sexual aggression (e.g., violence), followed by communication and interaction problems (e.g., conflict), and then entering and leaving relationships (e.g., jealousy) and finally problematic relationships (e.g., enemies).

What is the Association Between the Dark and Bright Aspects of Relationships? Another aspect of the dark side of relationships that scholars have addressed is: “How are the dark side and the bright side related?” Let us start this discussion obliquely. When we searched for examples of the dark side via Google Images, in the first page of results, we found eight pictures with Darth Vader’s face. Interestingly, the original Star Wars films (Episodes IV, V, and VI) describe the dark side as a synonym of evil. It means something completely opposite and separated from the “bright part” (the Republic). Underlying these episodes is a simple, bipolar model that darkness and light are opposite sides of a single dimension such that to the extent a relationship is dark, it is not bright. In discussions of the dark side of relationships, this does not seem to be a popular view. Other models of the association between darkness and light are possible. The prequel films and the Expanded Universe show a different view. In them the dark side can stem from all strong emotions, both positive and negative. Darkness and light are not totally discrete opposites, but rather light can become intertwined with darkness. This is akin to the view that Duck (1994) expressed in the first darkness volume. He claimed that in the past, positive and negative aspects of relationships have been seen as a dichotomous phenomenon with the negative side being understood as mistakes— deviations from the positive—that are not fundamental parts of relationships. He argued that seeing positive and negative as a dichotomy is misleading; instead, negative aspects of relating should be considered as elements in the totality of the relational experience. He concludes “both [positive and

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negative] elements . . . are conjoint parts of relationships” (p. 4). In this sense, “darkness” would not be separated from relationship but considered as an intrinsic part of it at the same level as the positive part. Complementing this view, evil behavior (e.g., destructive obedience) can be conceptualized as a part of behaving normally depending, for example, on situational pressures (see Miller’s 2004 book including chapters by Zimbardo, 2004, and other authors). Spitzberg and Cupach (2007b) offer a scheme for delineating varieties of darkness that further illuminates the relationship between dark and bright. These authors see the dark side as a function of two dimensions: (1) normatively and morally appropriate vs. normatively and morally inappropriate; and (2) functionally productive vs. functionally destructive. The first dimension represents to what extent society approves or disapproves of an activity or phenomenon. The second one refers to the degree to which an activity or phenomenon promotes or prevents the survival or thriving of a person or social system. In other words, the first dimension is about normativeness and the second about functionality. The intersection of these dimensions results in four domains (see Figure 1.2). The “bright side” and “evil incarnate” are obvious. They personify the separate duality in which the dark and the bright side have been placed. The other two quadrants are even more interesting for these authors, however, and for us, in terms of showing less obvious parts of the dark side conceptualization. “What once was dark is now bright” and “what once was bright is now dark” are respectively parallel terms to what Spitzberg and Cupach (2007b, p. 6) referred in a metaphoric form as the “dark clouds have silver Presumptively/Normatively PRODUCTIVE

THE BRIGHT SIDE Functionally PRODUCTIVE

WHAT ONCE WAS DARK IS NOW BRIGHT

WHAT ONCE WAS BRIGHT IS NOW DARK

Functionally DESTRUCTIVE

EVIL INCARNATE

Presumptively/Normatively DESTRUCTIVE

Figure 1.2 The Boundaries of the Dark Side (source: Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007b, p. 6)

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linings and the silver clouds have dark linings.” Taking their own instances, an illustration of the first idea is the different studies that show that infidelity is not only associated with conflict, violence, relational dissatisfaction, divorce, and uxoricide (for a review, see Tafoya & Spitzberg, 2007), but also that some partners report higher satisfaction and other benefits following infidelity (e.g., Buunk, 1987; Hansen, 1987; Olson, Russell, Higgins-Kessler, & Miller, 2002). An example of the second idea can be provided by the fact that although selfesteem and politeness are considered as positive aspects, some studies have found an association between these two variables and violence (Baumeister, Smart, & Boden, 1996; Cohen, Vandello, Puente, & Rantilla, 1999). Spitzberg and Cupach (2007b) suggest that human motives and interactions have a dialectical-like, ambivalent character. They present five, not necessarily exhaustive, working assumptions regarding the interplay between darkness and light: (1) people approach interactions with multiple and mixed (i.e., benevolent and malevolent) motives; (2) interpersonal communication involves different outcomes that can simultaneously be pleasurable and painful, constructive and destructive, or functional and dysfunctional; (3) assessments of the consequences of interactions as being light or dark are a function of differences in individuals, context, and culture; (4) being embedded in a hierarchical social system, the outcomes of communication can be judged differently at different levels (e.g., individuals, dyads, families, social groups, culture); and (5) time contributes to the way we evaluate actions and outcomes (e.g., what is good today may be seen as dark tomorrow). One final way of seeing darkness and brightness is as two separate dimensions. There has been a tradition in multiple areas (e.g., job satisfaction, masculinity–femininity, etc.) of taking what has been seen as opposite ends of a single continuum and dividing them into two separate dimensions. For example, regarding the nature of affect, negative and positive feelings have been considered as independent (Feldman Barrett & Russell, 1998). Marital satisfaction and dissatisfaction have also been regarded as independent and separated (Fincham & Linfield, 1997). Conceptualized this way, darkness in a relationship does not preclude the relationship from being positive; it can be both and the association between the two is an empirical question rather than a given determined by underlying assumptions about them being opposite poles of a single dimension. Viewing negative and positive aspects of relationships as separate dimensions also opens the possibility that their correlates, what leads up to and follows from them, may differ.

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Is the Dark Side a Scientific Concept? Although the dark side started as a heuristic metaphor (Spitzberg & Cupach, 1994), we wonder if it can also be considered as a scientific concept. So we looked for a definition of scientific concepts to serve as a standard by which to judge whether the dark side fits. Contrary to what we intuitively expected, the definition of concept has been one of the most challenging and changing issues in the history of the philosophy of science (Durbin, 1988). The criteria used to determine if something is scientific or not are typically more related to theories than to concepts. All this makes it difficult to know what a scientific concept is, and it is even more difficult to see if the dark side can be considered as such. We decided to judge whether the dark side is a scientific concept by considering two standards: The Dictionary of the American Psychological Association’s (VandenBos, 2007) definitions of the two linked words and the elements of scientific concept as identified in Watt and van den Berg’s (2002) text. According to the APA dictionary a “concept is an idea that represents a class of objects or events or their properties.” Scientific attitude is also defined as “an attitude characterized by an objective and impartial approach and the use of empirical methods in search for knowledge.” We can clearly see that the dark side accomplishes all the APA’s characteristics of being a concept, and its study has been surrounded by a scientific attitude. So far, so good. Moving to our second standard, Watt and van den Berg (p. 12) state that a scientific concept consists of three elements: A label, a theoretical definition, and an operational definition. The dark side is a label and there are descriptions of what is meant by the concept. There are measures (operational definitions) of facets of the dark side, but to the best of our knowledge, no one has yet established an omnibus scale to assess the dark side as a whole. By trying to develop a valid psychometric scale of the dark side as a whole, we could further assess if the dark side can be considered as a scientific concept. At present our view is that the dark side has aspects of the prototype of a scientific concept but does not fully meet Watt and van den Berg’s standards. From our point of view, the dark side may be equivalent to other more general and broader concepts such as general intelligence, general well-being, etc.

Importance of the Study of the Dark Side of Personal Relationships We are delighted that the dark side has been advanced as an area of scientific investigation. We see at least four reasons why the dark side of relationships is important. First, we agree with the aforementioned view that darkness is an integral part of relationships. To fully understand relationships, we need to know about both their positive and negative aspects.

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Second, Osgood’s classic semantic differential research (Osgood & Suci, 1969) demonstrated that the way human beings construct meaning can be captured via bipolar trait ratings. Osgood found that three main bipolar conceptions are Evaluation (good or bad; “dark” and “bright” side), Potency (strong–weak), and Activity (active–passive). In this regard, the dark side is important in terms of how people understand the world. In other words, people look at life via a good–bad, dark–bright lens; they are constantly judging their relationships and aspects of them in good vs. bad terms. Stephen Jay Gould (2002) has speculated that humans evolved as “dichotomizing” animals—that dichotomizing probably had some adaptive value. Third, although human darkness has always been studied, we think the negative aspects of relationships have been largely ignored historically, but since the mid-1990s have increasingly become an important focus of investigation. In initiating their dark side series of volumes Spitzberg and Cupach (1994, p. 315) described the dark aspects of relationships as “neglected areas of inquiry.” Not everyone agrees (see Gable & Reis, 2001), but consistent with the view that the dark side was not getting much attention prior to Cupach and Spitzberg’s first volume, Duck (1994) examined the 58 articles published in the Journal of Social and Personal Relationships during 1991–1992. He concluded that only seven of them (12 percent) dealt with negative topics. In a more extensive analysis, Hoobler (1999) examined a sample of 200 articles from 15 journals covering personal relationships (e.g., Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, Personal Relationships, Journal of Marriage and the Family, Human Communication Research) published between 1989 and 1998. Hoobler found that articles on positive aspects of relationships outnumbered those on the negative side by a ratio of 72.5 to 27.5. Evidence also suggests that the dark side has garnered more interest in the last 15 years. The current authors each coded the titles of the 50 articles published in the Journal of Social and Personal Relationships in 2008. After resolving disagreements (using abstracts for additional information), we identified 20 out of 50 titles that dealt at least partially with negative aspects of relationships. Compared with Duck’s findings for 1991–1992, these results show an upward trend in interest in dark aspects of relationships. We also compared handbooks on the study of personal relationships published between 1988 and the present. Although some aspects of darkness were present within the chapters in Steve Duck’s two early volumes (1988, 1997), only three and two chapters respectively were specifically developed on dark aspects. Vangelisti and Perlman’s (2006) more recent handbook included not only nine specific chapters related to the dark side, but also a section entitled “threats to relationships.” A final reason for the importance of the dark side is that research evidence supports the notion that the bad is stronger than good (see Baumeister,

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Bratslavsky, Finkenauer, & Vohs, 2001; Finkenauer & Kerkhof, 2007; Proulx, Helms, & Buehler, 2007; Rook, 1998; Sparks & Baumeister, 2008). In an excellent literature review Baumeister et al. (2001) presented examples from several domains where this principle operated: Reactions to events, close relationships, other relationships and interactions, emotion, learning, neurological process, child development, social support, information processing, memory, stereotypes, forming impressions, self, feedback, and health. Although this is a more general psychological phenomenon, the most germane evidence for our purposes is provided by research on relationships. For example, negative interactions are remembered more than positive ones (Baumeister et al., 2001). Similarly, in a meta-analysis developed to address the relationship between marital satisfaction and well-being, Proulx et al. (2007) found that marital satisfaction more strongly predicted well-being when the quality of the marital satisfaction measures was negative (e.g., conflict) than when it was positive (e.g., satisfaction). This approach has interestingly been considered consistent with evolutionary theory. Living systems react more strongly to threats to their existence and also to indicators of maladaptation (Darwin, 2003). Especially attending and reacting to negative aspects of our environment may have survival value. If negative aspects of relationships have stronger effects, one may wonder why considerable evidence shows we benefit from being in relationships (cf. Chapter 15, this volume). In her insightful methodological critique of the relevant literature, Rook (1998) points out that even though negative events may have more impact, positive events are more numerous. So, the larger number of positive interactions may usually outweigh the stronger impact of negative events when calculating overall impact.

Summing up: From the Past to the Future: Ideas for a Plausible Dark Side Concept In recapping key points, we have indicated what is meant by the dark side of relationships, the attributes authors have ascribed to it. We have identified the most frequently discussed topics addressed in research and reviewed three different taxonomies of different varieties of darkness. We have contended that the relationship between darkness and light is a complex one, inadequately represented by viewing them as dichotomous, opposite ends of a single dimension. Although not being a perfect example of a scientific concept, the dark side is akin to other broader, more general concepts such as general intelligence and general well-being. Darkness in relationships is important for several reasons including that negative aspects have more impact on well-being than do positive aspects.

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Perhaps it is too soon to offer a definition of the dark side; however looking back at the past contributions and reflecting on some of our thoughts, we consider that any definition should take into account the following ideas. The dark side of relationships: (1) is an intrinsic part of relationships that can operate at the same level and time as the positive side. Dark and positive sides are not separated; (2) deprives people from valued outcomes and/or imposes undesired ones; (3) is lived or felt by a target as stressful; (4) is normatively and/or functionally destructive; (5) is dependent on individuals (e.g., beliefs, attitudes, education, development stage, etc.), context (e.g., interpersonal—dyads, social group, etc.—socio-economical, political, etc.), and culture; (6) is variable, dynamic and complex (e.g., what is dark may become light or have light attributes); (7) helps define the nature of relationship brightness (e.g., we may only fully understand happiness or joy by having experienced darkness).

THEORIES Prominent Theories Used in the Dark Side of Relationships Collection Theories can be thought of as a set of constructs and the propositions about the associations between them. Theories guide research and provide a lens for looking at and understanding phenomena. In the dark side collection, we have identified six theories that are especially prominent in the sense that they are either discussed in multiple chapters or are extensively developed in a single chapter. These theories are: Attachment, relational goal pursuit, uncertainty reduction theory, inconsistent nurturing as control, safe ground, and communication privacy management. Attachment theory provides a descriptive and explanatory framework for understanding the importance of the bond between infants and primary caregivers (Ainsworth, Blehar, Waters, & Wall, 1978; Bowlby, 1969, 1973, 1980). Three different attachment styles were identified in infants depending on how they react when they are distressed: (1) secure, rely on caregiver; (2) avoidant, show detachment or avoidance of the caregiver; and

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(3) anxious–ambivalent, manifest protest behaviors and anxiety on separation, and ambivalence when the caregiver is back. Hazan and Shaver (1987) brought up the provocative idea of affirming that infant attachment styles are related with the subsequent styles of being in a romantic relationship in adulthood. Later on, Bartholomew (1990) and Bartholomew and Horowitz (1991) included four types of adult attachment very close to Hazan and Shaver’s (1987) classification (Brennan, Shaver, & Tobey, 1991). In their proposal, the different styles are organized in two dimensions of working models of the self and others (positive and negative). These orthogonal dimensions can be reorganized in two similar axes: Anxiety over relationships and avoidance or discomfort with closeness (Brennan, Clark, & Shaver, 1998; Fraley & Waller, 1998). The final four styles integrated were: (1) (2) (3) (4)

secure (low anxiety and avoidance); preoccupied (high anxiety and low avoidance); fearful–avoidant (high anxiety and avoidance); and dismissing avoidant (low anxiety and high avoidance).

Mikulincer and Shaver (2007) have more recently advanced a control systems model of attachment-system activation and functioning. This theory has been applied to different topics that may be considered as part of the dark side of relationships. In the previous books, attachment theory has been used to explain why childhood abuse or neglect results in infant insecure attachment (Morgan & Wilson, 2007) and to help understand why stalkers are more insecurely attached, particularly more anxious about relationships (Cupach & Spitzberg, 2004). In other recent works, insecure attachment has also been related to emotional abuse (Weston, 2008), intimate partner violence (Doumas, Pearson, Elgin, & McKinley, 2008), a range of negative behaviors and emotions (Noller, 2006), more deception (Knapp, 2006), rigid thinking (Fletcher, Overall, & Friesen, 2006), lower social support (Sarason & Sarason, 2006), worse relationships in late adulthood (Blieszner, 2006), higher loneliness (De Jong Gierveld, Van Tilburg, & Dykstra, 2006; Rokach & Brock, 1996), greater jealousy (Knobloch, Solomon, & Cruz, 2001; Sharpsteen & Kirkpatrick, 1997), being a victim of prison bullying (Ireland & Power, 2004), and less effective responses to conflict, among other examples. Apropos of the latter, insecurely attached individuals “appraise conflicts in threatening terms and report poorer conflict management skills and stronger tendencies to escalate conflicts or withdraw from them” (Mikulincer & Shaver, 2007, p. 269). Second, relational goal pursuit theory was developed by Cupach and Spitzberg (2004) to explain the occurrence of stalking. Relationship pursuit is motivated

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by the pursuer’s goal of having a relationship with a specific person. Obsessive relational pursuers give an extreme importance to accomplishing this goal, linking the fact of having a concrete relationship with higher-order goals, such as attaining happiness and self-worth (Cupach & Spitzberg, 2004; Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007c). They think they will be happy only if they get a specific relationship. When the goal is blocked, linking fosters rumination (McIntosh, Harlow, & Martin, 1995; McIntosh & Martin, 1992) and negative affect in the form of anger, frustration, hurt, jealousy, and shame (Cupach, Spitzberg, & Carson, 2000). Rumination and negative affect feed each other (Martin & Tesser, 1996; McIntosh & Martin, 1992), motivating the persistence of the pursuit to relieve the unpleasant mood state. Obsessive relational pursuers have distorted interpretations of the behaviors and intentions of the person they are pursuing and give rationalizations for their own pursuit. They think they will attain their goal with sufficient effort. All these factors (i.e., distortions, the rumination, and the negative affect) plus high self-efficacy foster persistence of pursuing because the pursuer has lost the conception of how much persistence in the pursuit of the goal is appropriate. Non-obsessive relational pursuers evaluate the feasibility of the relational goal and, if it is difficult to attain it, they will abandon it. An interesting aspect of Cupach and Spitzberg’s (2004) presentation of relational goal pursuit theory is that they do not present it as the only useful conceptual framework. Given their extensive review of the topic, presumably they believe obsessive pursuit has multiple determinants and explanatory factors. They also give an attachment-theoretical explanation of stalking. They see attachment as providing what they call a more distal view going back to the pursuer’s childhood relationships, and relational goal pursuit theory providing a more proximal explanation of how obsessive relational intrusion stems from the interpersonal and intrapersonal dynamics of the pursuer and the pursued. We see this as a good example of integration of theories. The uncertainty reduction theory is interested in explaining how individuals communicate when they are not sure about their surroundings (Berger & Calabrese, 1975). According to this perspective, by reducing uncertainty, individuals are more able to predict and explain their social environments. People are motivated to seek this information. This theory states eight axioms. Following this, uncertainty would be: (1) positively associated with information-seeking behavior and reciprocity rate; and (2) negatively associated with verbal communication, nonverbal affiliative expressiveness, intimacy of communication, similarity between partners, liking, and shared communication networks between partners (for a review see Knobloch, 2008, p. 135).

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For instance, in a dating relationship or in a courtship process, uncertainty is higher when no one is seeking information about the other, there is no selfdisclosure about their expectancies, there is no verbal communication about what they like or dislike, they do not share eye contact or gestures, they do not disclose intimate feelings, they discover they have very different hobbies, they do not like each other, and they do not have any friend in common. In the dark side books, Knobloch (2007; see also Chapter 8, this volume, for related themes) wrote an excellent chapter about the dark side of relational uncertainty. Although some evidence suggests that too much certainty may be unfavorable for close relationships (Baxter & Montgomery, 1996), Knobloch (2007) also reviewed studies that relate different aspects of darkness with uncertainty. In this regard, for instance, higher levels of uncertainty have been found to be related with more jealousy (Knobloch, Solomon, & Cruz, 2001), more negative appraisals of other’s behavior (Solomon & Knobloch, 2004), and more frequent romantic relationship break-ups (Huston, Caughlin, Houts, Smith, & George, 2001; Planalp & Honeycutt, 1985; Planalp, Rutherford, & Honeycutt, 1988). All these results show us the importance of uncertainty for interpersonal relationships and individuals’ well-being. Another theory found in the dark side collection is the inconsistent nurturing as control (INC) perspective (Le Poire, Hallett, & Giles, 1998). This theory has been especially applied to the study of codependency of partners in relationships in which at least one of the partners is an addicted (e.g., drug or alcohol-dependent) individual. INC theory is concerned with how such relationships are nurtured and maintained. INC theorists believe addiction typically exists as a result of the interactions between the partners: The nonaddicted partner tries his or her best to help the addicted partner alleviate the undesirable behavior, yet often the non-addicted partner’s efforts are not only ineffective but inadvertently contribute further to the problem. Their explanation of this weds ideas gleaned from Skinner’s operant conditioning, social exchange theory, and communication studies research. Drawing on Skinner, they argue that inconsistent manifestations of positive reinforcement and punishment may reinforce the addiction. For example, a partner can first punish all the drinking-addicted behaviors of his/her partner. Once time passes, however, and there are not behavior changes in the affected person, the partner starts unintentionally being inconsistent and giving intermittent punishing and reinforcing (e.g., caretaking, understanding) behaviors related to the partner’s drinking behaviors. This inconsistency in the non-addicted partner’s reactions will inadvertently reinforce the partner’s addictive behaviors (Le Poire et al., 1998; Le Poire, Hallett, & Erlandson, 2000), making extinction of the addictive behaviors less likely. Reward and punishment are mediated via specific communication behaviors including immediacy (showing closeness), altercentrism (other-focus), and

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withdrawal. Families with an addicted member typically become isolated. In social exchange terms, members lack alternatives and become dependent on each other. This theory has not been generally applied to other dark side aspects due to its specificity. Morgan and Wilson (2007) advance safe ground theory (SGT) to explain child abuse. They believe children need a safe ground; that is, they need to know what behaviors will elicit positive responses and what behaviors will elicit negative responses. Children also need to feel they can choose to engage in the behaviors that elicit these reactions if they wish. Of course, the reaction the children receive is not only a function of their own behavior but also of their parents’ responses. Morgan and Wilson divide parent–child interactions into three categories: Positive child behaviors; controllable negative behaviors; and uncontrollable negative behaviors. In each of those situations, Morgan and Wilson consider the emotional valence of the parents’ reaction to the behavior, how they attribute it, and how predictable their response is. For example, if the child acts positively and the parent reacts with positive approval, credits the child as being responsible for the good outcome and is predictable in making such responses, the child is likely to achieve a safe ground. Having a safe ground in turn leads the child to having positive selfesteem and behavioral competence. Morgan and Wilson (2007) argue that physically abusing parents leave their children little room to perceive a safe ground. For example, in response to children’s positive behaviors, physically abusive parents are less likely to make positive emotional responses; less likely to give internal, stable attributions for the behavior; and less likely to be consistent in their responses. They denigrate their children. This leads their children to lack selfesteem and to misbehave. Finally, communication privacy management theory (Petronio, 2002) offers a framework for understanding and for explaining how people reveal or conceal private information. Individuals manage a friction between revealing or concealing. Private information is conceptualized as a kind of information that the person considers as his/hers. To maximize the benefits of revealing and minimize the risks of disclosure, people develop certain rules that may vary depending on culture, gender, motivations, context, and risk–benefit ratio. For instance, in some cultures it is more important than in others to be open. In terms of gender, women are more focused on confidence in the other person, whereas for men it is more important to feel that the situation is correct. The theory proposes three processes of boundary management: (1) boundary rule formation states that people create rules to regulate when and under what circumstances they will reveal their private information;

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(2) boundary coordination is linked to the process of agreeing on privacy rules between partners, for example, whether divulged information can be disclosed to other individuals outside the relationship; (3) boundary turbulence may arise from variations in privacy rules used by individuals, privacy rule infringement, or deficient boundary coordination, for example, when one partner reveals information outside the relationship that breaches the other partner’s expectations. Communication privacy management theory has been applied inside the dark side collection to deal with avoidance and secrets (Afifi, Caughlin, & Afifi, 2007), and privacy issues in family interactions (Petronio, 1994). Outside this collection, this theory has been also applied to certain areas that may be considered as part of the dark side such as child sexual abuse (Petronio, Reeder, Hecht, & Ros-Mendoza, 1996) or HIV disclosure to relatives (Dindia, 1998). For example, in the first dark side volume, Petronio reported a series of four studies investigating boundary violations in college students’ parent–child relationships. In these studies, she looked at the invasion tactics parents use (e.g., eavesdropping on their children’s phone conversations), the defensive actions children take (e.g., making private calls outside of the home), and the impact of privacy invasions on parent–child relations. Consistent with conceptualizing privacy invasion as an aspect in the dark side of relationships, invasions and defensive actions generally lead to a decline in trust and in the quality of the children’s relationships with their parents.

Theories of Personal Relationships to be Applied to the Study of the Dark Side Until now, we have pointed out the theories cited more in the area of the dark side. A different vantage point, however, for considering potentially relevant theories is to ask: What are the major theories used more generally in the study of communication and personal relationships? Baxter and Braithwaite (2008; Braithwaite & Baxter, 2006) survey over 30 theories in interpersonal communication including attachment, uncertainty reduction theory, inconsistent nurturing as control and communication privacy management, which are prominent in the dark side literature. Harvey and Wenzel (2006, see also Noller, 2006) have recently reviewed key theories guiding the close relationships field. They identified four leading perspectives: (1) attachment; (2) evolutionary theory; (3) social exchange theories; and

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(4) cognitive–behavioral and sociocognitive theories. Baxter and Braithwaite also cover theories that deal with evolutionary, social exchange, and cognitive–behavioral and sociocognitive perspectives. Of these, attachment theory is the only one that we identified as especially prominent in the dark side series. Given the multiple lines pointing to the importance of evolutionary theory, social exchange theories, and cognitive– behavioral and sociocognitive theories, what might they offer to the dark side? Evolutionary theory’s main goal is to explain the survival of the species through natural selection. Regarding close relationships, people need these kinds of relationships to perpetuate their genes. To achieve this, many aspects of dating and mating, such as sexual attraction or mate selection, are interpreted through the lens of evolved inclinations adapted to help with survival. Although sometimes controversial, this theory has stimulated and made important contributions to the study of close relationships, especially in areas such as gender differences in sexual desire and behavior, jealousy, conflict, temperament, and abuse (Harvey & Wenzel, 2006; Noller, 2006). One simple illustration of this type of analysis is that we should favor blood relatives over non-blood relatives (e.g., in-laws and non-biological children). Consistent with this, Daly and Wilson (1996) found step-children are at much greater risk of being abused than are biological children. A second example is that evolutionary theory has been used to explain why men would feel more upset because of sexual infidelity and women because of emotional infidelity (Buss, Larsen, Westen, & Semmelroth, 1992; Tafoya & Spitzberg, 2007). According to evolutionary theory, this stems from gender differences in reproductive roles. Men can have many children, each with very little investment, but are plagued by the issue of whether they are truly any given child’s father. Women have parental certainty but must invest much more in each child they have. Thus fears of parental uncertainty fuel men’s concerns about sexual infidelity while women’s desire to get resources and protection from their mates fuels women’s concern that their partner will become emotionally attached to another woman. Gender differences in reproductive roles also lead to conflicts such as when men want sexual activity and women do not. The social exchange theory tradition includes such specific models as Kelley and Thibaut’s (1978) interdependence theory, equity theory (Walster, Walster, & Berscheid, 1978) and Rusbult’s (1980) investment model of commitment. However, in general, all these theories point out that individuals are motivated by gaining rewards and reducing or avoiding costs in their relationships. Interdependence theory (Kelley & Thibaut, 1978) proposes comparison levels (CL) of rewards versus costs and comparison levels of the possible alternatives (CLalt) to the current relationship. Rooted in our past experiences, our CL is the value of the outcomes that we expect

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or believe we deserve in our relationships with others. Our CLalt is the best possible alternative (relationship or situation without a relationship) to the relationship in question. Satisfaction or dissatisfaction with a relationship is a function of a comparison of the relationship outcome value (rewards minus costs) to the individual’s CL. Dissatisfaction occurs when the outcomes are below the CL. From an interdependence perspective, people are apt to terminate a relationship when the level of rewards is very low and there is the potential of other relationships that can produce a higher level of rewards. When the rewards people get in a relationship are higher than what they think they would receive without it (Rusbult, Drigotas, & Verette, 1994), they become dependent on the relationship. Illustrative of the social exchange approach, Rusbult, Verette, Whitney, Slovik, and Lipkus (1991) have examined how people react when their partners behave badly in a relationship. Do they perpetuate the problem by responding destructively in return or do they engage in constructive behaviors to try to get the interactions back on a positive track? Consistent with interdependence predictions, people are generally less willing to accommodate (i.e., they act more destructively) when they are less satisfied with the relationship, believe their alternatives are good, have invested relatively little in the relationship, and feel less committed. Rusbult and her associates have also shown that the less dedicated we are to a partner and the less effort we have placed in a relationship, the more likely we are to be looking for other potential alternatives (Rusbult, Van Lange, Wildschut, Yovetich, & Verette, 2000). In interdependence theory, the emphasis is on what other relational options are available. Equity theory (Canary & Stafford, 2001) focuses on comparisons between the two partners in the relationship. Equity theorists see a relationship as fair when the ratio of results-to-inputs are equivalent for both members of the relationship (Canary & Stafford, 2001). Inequity is assumed to be distressing. Being either under- or over-benefitted has its drawbacks. For example, under-benefitted partners feel angry and are prone to extra-relational affairs; over-benefitted partners feel guilty (Walster et al., 1978). For Harvey and Wenzel (2006) the social exchange theories may show a special relevance when the relationship is in a difficult phase. In those cases, rewards versus costs evaluations can be more salient, because partners are more focused on what they can get from the relationship than on their partner’s needs. This has a direct implication for the study of the dark side. Aspects like break-ups, conflict, distressed couples, and marital dissatisfaction could be explained from this perspective. The ratio between positive and negative behaviors is also even more important in these situations from this theory. A very bad behavior can be more powerful and can outnumber positive behaviors, as has been found in married couples’ conflict communication (Notarius & Markman, 1993). Again, the dark side appears more powerful, consistent with the “bad stronger than good” approach

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(Baumeister et al., 2001). Social exchange theories would be extremely helpful to understand these interactions. Harvey and Wenzel (2006) include several more specific traditions within their broad fourth theoretical category, cognitive–behavioral approaches. These include classic cognitive consistency theories, the work of clinicians such as Beck (1988), attribution theory, and social cognition research. The cognitive– behavioral approach emphasizes cognitions and cognitive processes, indicating that we want consistency in our thoughts and between our thoughts and behaviors, that we endeavor to explain the causes of behavior, that cognitions influence our emotions and behaviors, and so forth. As one example of this tradition, how partners attribute negative relational events differs between happily and unhappily married couples: In distressed relationships, negative events are explained in terms of something general about the partner that will persist; in happily married couples such events are explained in terms of external, specific, and unstable factors (Bradbury & Fincham, 1990). In the dark side collection we have different examples of the importance of cognition in aspects that can be considered dark, such as can be found in the study of misunderstandings (Sillars, 1998), loneliness (Segrin, 1998), messages that hurt (Vangelisti, 1994, 2007) and the rationalizations and attributions made in obsessive relational pursuit (Cupach & Spitzberg, 2004). Other theories including dialectical theories, social constructivism, and/or symbolic interactionism may be useful theories to study the dark side. We have focused more, however, on the personal relationships theories according to Harvey and Wenzel (2006) and Noller (2006).

Reflections on Theories Stepping back from the individual perspectives, there are various ways this set of theories can be compared and characterized. First, consider their intellectual origins. In general, these theories have their roots in psychology and communication studies with some theories more associated with psychology (attachment, social exchange, evolutionary psychology, cognitive– behavioral approaches), and others more associated with communication (uncertainty reduction and communication privacy management). Psychological theories attend more to thoughts, feelings, and actions (e.g., mind and behavior) whereas communication scholars focus more on verbal and nonverbal communication (e.g., messages, media, and meaning). Theories differ in the extent to which they emphasize attributes of the individual, interaction between partners, or factors external to the individuals involved. Attachment, relational goal pursuit, and cognitive–behavioral theories deal with processes within the individual. Dating back to Darwin,

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evolutionary theorists have recognized genetic variability. So they too consider individual differences (see Buss, 2009; Buss & Greiling, 1999). Their more primary focus, however, is how species adapt to their environments over generations, so in that sense they are very contextual and less concerned with individual factors. The inconsistent nurturance as control, safe ground, and social exchange theories deal largely with interactions. An emphasis on broader contextual factors during our lifetimes is noticeable by its absence from the dark side series. More attention to how contemporary external stressors and macro-level factors contribute to negative aspects of relationships is warranted. Another dimension on which these theories can be compared is their temporal perspective. Evolutionary theory assumes a great deal of the way we behave is determined by how past generations adapted. Attachment theory as well as safe ground theory place an emphasis on early childhood experiences, seeing these as influencing later characteristics of the person and outcomes. Other theories (e.g., relational goal pursuit, uncertainty reduction theory, communication privacy management theory, INC) see negative aspects of relationships as stemming from what is happening now or some combination of our past experience and the present. For example, exchange theorists see our CL evolving over time but look at current interactions and alternatives as very significant factors. These theories differ in their breadth. Evolutionary theory applies across species and disciplines. Its scope is broad. Attachment, social exchange, and cognitive–behavioral approaches are considered theories of relevance to understanding general aspects of close relationships. Communication privacy management theory has applicability beyond the dark side but attempts to explain a more specific set of phenomena. The relational goal pursuit, safe ground, and inconsistent nurturing as control theories were developed to address specific aspects of the dark side. In general, when a theory can explain a wide breadth of phenomena, it is considered a virtue. Besides breadth, several other criteria can be used to evaluate theories (e.g., conceptual clarity, parsimony, internal consistency, testability, ability to generate research, empirical confirmation, practical utility). For example, in terms of generating research, the older, general theories of close relationships have been widely used in research activities. The newer, more specialized theories (INC, relational goal pursuit, safe ground, communication privacy management theory) have not yet been as widely used although we like that Cupach and Spitzberg (2004) have a generated a list of specific testable hypotheses for the study of intrusive behavior. We could more exhaustively use such criteria to judge which is the best of these theories, but we lean toward a more eclectic approach. Given the diversity of the negative aspects of close relationships, we believe that more than one theoretical perspective will have value.

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METHODS The chapters in the dark side books tend to be syntheses of work rather than primary research reports; indeed only six chapters in total offer original analysis of the authors’ data. The information reported by authors tends to be more descriptive, such as analysis of means and percentages, with correlations and regression analyses also sometimes included (e.g., Felmlee’s 1998 chapter on “fatal attraction” and/or Dailey, Lee, and Spitzberg’s 2007 chapter on “communicative aggression”). Due to this, many of the details of the investigators’ designs, methods of data collection, and statistical analyses are obscure. Thus, it is difficult to analyze in depth the methods used in this collection. What can be gleaned from what authors do say about methodology and analysis, however, is compatible with general characteristics of research in the close relationships field as described by Charania and Ickes (2006). One basic division of research designs is between correlational, quasiexperimental, and experimental. The majority of research on the dark side is correlational. For example, Felmlee (1998) studied fatal attraction, which she conceptualized as being initially attracted to aspects of a person that become distasteful over time, using a correlational approach. Using a logistic regression analysis, this author found that fatal attraction was more probable when the other person has characteristics that are extreme and dissimilar to the research participant’s. Longitudinal studies are used frequently as a subcategory of the correlational designs. Experimental designs are rare in the study of close relationships but can be found. For example, Felmlee cited some results obtained from an experiment conducted by McClanahan, Gold, Lenney, Ryckman, and Kulberg (1990). The experiment involved male college students getting to know an attractive female confederate whose attitudes were described as dissimilar to the subjects’. These authors randomly assigned participants to four conditions in a 2 3 2 design (Misattribution vs. No Misattribution 3 Infatuation Induction vs. No Infatuation Induction). Half of them were given a “vitamin” that they were told generates good and positive feelings (Misattribution) and half of them were not (No Misattribution). Half of the participants had an opportunity to interact with the confederate who behaved in a friendly way (smiling, keeping eye contact, etc.); the other half worked in the same room as the confederate but were told not to interact with her. This constituted the infatuation–no infatuation manipulation. As was expected, within the no misattribution condition, the infatuation manipulation significantly increased the participants’ attraction to the confederate. In the misattribution condition, however, the infatuation manipulation did not significantly increase the participants’ attraction to the confederate. The infatuation manipulation presumably makes participants feel good. In

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the misattribution condition, McClanahan et al. contend that the positive arousal in the infatuation condition is attributed to the vitamin, participants are less positive in their judgments of the confederate’s dissimilar attitudes, and are not as attracted to her. In the normal attribution condition, interacting with a friendly confederate leads participants to evaluate the confederate’s dissimilar attitudes more positively and be attracted to her. In this sense, infatuated lovers are blind to the importance of the dissimilarities between themselves and their partners. In general, both experimental and correlational designs are useful. Correlational designs allow for studying topics (e.g., violence, abuse, etc.) where manipulation may be unethical. In addition, these designs are very useful to research everyday life, especially negative aspects. By contrast, experiments are more powerful in terms of establishing causality from predictors to outcomes. These two studies on attraction were developed using a convenience sample of college students. Sears (1986) denounced the enormous amount of research based on such samples, claiming reliance on this narrow database skews the results obtained. We agree with Noller (2006) and Charania and Ickes (2006) when they highlight the importance of using more representative samples. Regarding the methods of data collection used in the dark side collection, of the six chapters that offer original data, all of them utilized self-report methods of collection: Five used questionnaires (Dailey et al., 2007; Felmlee, 1998; Marshall, 1994; O’Hair & Cody, 1994; Vangelisti, 1994) and one used an interview (Eckstein, 2007). Other self-report methods such as use of diaries, recording interactions, and analyzing letters may be useful ways of collecting data. Other methods such as peer reports, observational techniques, physiological measures, archival methods, and interventions or manipulations are very interesting methods for studying the dark and bright aspects of personal relationships (Charania & Ickes, 2006). Some are being used at least sparingly. For example, in their chapter about patterns of conflict in personal relationships, Messman and Canary (1998) describe different observational coding systems that have been employed in studies regarding sibling and parent–child conflict relationships. Dunn (1983), however, pointed out the need for more observational studies focusing on family conflict interaction, because they are relatively rare. Regarding physiological measures, although not included in the dark side collection, during the last 15 years there have been exciting advances in the use of such indicators in close relationships research. For instance, lonely individuals have been shown to have poorer immune system functioning than non-lonely individuals (Kennedy, KiecoltGlaser, & Glaser, 1988; Uchino, Cacioppo, & Kiecolt-Glaser, 1996). Turning to data analysis, the majority of existing research on the negative aspects of relationships uses an individual approach instead of a dyadic one.

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Almost all researchers acknowledge the influence that dyads and group members may have on an individual’s behaviors, emotions, and cognitions (Ickes, 2002; Kenny, 1996). To the extent that participants’ data is yoked or nested, it violates the assumption of independence that underlies many statistical analyses. In studying the dark side of close relationships, using dyadic and hierarchical approaches has multiple advantages. It helps researchers derive more valid statistical conclusions and it allows them to answer a wider range of questions. In short, dyadic and hierarchical analyses help us to better understand the dynamics behind these relationships. For example, consider studying the relationship between marital satisfaction and depressive symptoms. In a traditional individualistic investigation, researchers would collect data from one member of the couple to determine how individuals’ level of depression was associated with their level of marital satisfaction. Kouros, Papp, and Cummings (2008) approached this same basic question using a longitudinal, dyadic approach. They analyzed their data using Multiple Hierarchical Linear Modeling, allowing analysis of dyads together. By having data from both partners, Kouros et al. were able to study both within-person correlations and cross-over effects. That is, they found that each partner’s level of marital satisfaction was associated with their own level of depression. They also found cross-over effects such that husbands’ marital satisfaction was correlated with wives’ depression. Expanding on previous work, the study demonstrated that relationship duration, a couple-level variable, was a significant moderator of these associations. Husbands who were part of longer-term relationships were more susceptible to depressive symptoms under the circumstance of marital problems in comparison with husbands in shorter-term relationships. The longitudinal part of the study demonstrated that the association between depression and marital satisfaction is bidirectional in the sense that increases in depression were associated with subsequent decreases in marital satisfaction and decreases in marital satisfaction were associated with subsequent increases in depression. The trajectories of these changes were comparable for husbands and wives. We have been exclusively focused on quantitative methodology, which is the most used in actual dark side research. Qualitative methods, however, have generally become more popular in the social sciences in the past couple of decades and can be very useful to the study of the dark side. For instance, discourse analysis would be very useful to analyze what members of the general public consider as the dark side of personal relationships. As another interesting qualitative way to study the concept, Weber (1998) used narrative accounts (i.e., people’s stories of their break-ups) to formulate a picture of the break-up of non-marital relationships. Eckstein (2007) inductively analyzed open-ended interviews to shed light on adolescent abuse of parents. In general, qualitative studies provide rich descriptive data and can be useful in preliminary work leading to more quantitative investigations.

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REFLECTIONS ABOUT THE STATE OF THE STUDY OF DARK SIDE OF RELATIONSHIPS RESEARCH In this chapter we have seen that the notion of the dark side of relationships was originally introduced by Spitzberg and Cupach (1994) as a metaphor. It has become a significant area of close relationship research. Having assessed the past terrain, we want to share a few suggestions for the future of the domain. In particular, we will call for three directions: (1) a grand approach; (2) meta-analyses; and (3) a developmental perspective.

The Value of a Grand Approach In talking about directions for research on close relationships, Berscheid (1995) called for a grand theory. She argued that knowledge about interpersonal relationships is encapsulated within specific types of relationships but that general principles of relationships could be found. She argued that “Such a theory would directly address the principle relationship types, delineating the similarities and differences among them with respect to the causal conditions associated with various relationship phenomena” (p. 529). We see a parallel situation in the study of the dark side. Our knowledge is encapsulated within specific negative aspects. If we want to talk about the dark side of personal relationships as a scientific concept, we would need to test if the darkness shares some communalities. In talking about methods, we called for establishing a comprehensive measure of darkness. Is there something unified about these various phenomena? Are they meaningfully interrelated, perhaps in clusters or subtypes, or simply disparate entities? Can general causal principles of various forms of darkness be found? As part of a grand approach, we believe it may be beneficial to further encourage testing both dark and bright aspects of relationships together. Different authors, such as Felmlee (1998), studied very important predictors of a dark side aspect such as fatal attraction. More variables from the dark and bright side, however, could have been included (e.g., self-esteem, loneliness, etc.) in order to develop a more general knowledge of the dark outcomes. Given that the bright and dark are intertwined, there are questions about the patterning of positive and negative predictors with positive and negative outcomes. Sparks and Baumeister (2008) argued that positive aspects of relationships can prevent and compensate for the bad ones. Rook (1998) notes the possibility that positive factors better predict positive outcomes and

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negative antecedents better predict negative outcomes. Are principles such as these valid? An interesting study from the collection is the work from Dailey et al. (2007). They found how relational quality (positive dimension) was predicted by two aspects of the dark side such as conflict tactics and communication aggression. Is it possible, as Rook also considers, that negative antecedents are more likely to have cross-over effects on positive outcomes than do positive antecedents on negative outcomes? Therefore, we think that studies that include positive and negative aspects of close relationships, as we can actually find, may help to develop the status of the study of the dark side.

Meta-analyses As areas mature and more research accumulates, it is important to synthesize findings, to determine the replicability of results, to search for trends, and the like. So, another very important contribution may come from scholarship that reviews aspects of the dark side. With respect to reviews, the dark side books offer reviews of different topics such as hurtful messages (Vangelisti, 1994, 2007), disrupted interpersonal relationships and mental health problems (Segrin, 1998), stalking (Cupach & Spitzberg, 1998, 2004), abuse (Eckstein, 2007; Marshall, 1994; Morgan & Wilson, 2007), and so on. These efforts have used traditional, narrative approaches. We hope more meta-analyses will be done on studies of dark side phenomena. One example comes from Spitzberg and Cupach’s (2007c) excellent meta-analysis of 175 studies of stalking. They were able to establish the prevalence of stalking across studies (25 percent), that women are more likely to be victims than men, that stalking typically emerges from pre-existing relationships (especially romantic relationships), and that the use of threat was more common in clinical and forensic samples than in general population and college samples. These authors reviewed different motives for stalking. These included some motives that clearly stem from the dark side (e.g., anger, insecure attachment, control/possession, and intimidation) and some that stem from the bright side (e.g., love, reconciliation, and relationship development) although end up in darkness for being a motive for stalking. They find that the typical stalking case involves multiple motives, with intimacy motives being present in about one-third of cases and aggressive motives being present in less than one-quarter. Again, this underscores the double sides of personal relationships, considering dark and bright as part of the nature of relationships and as interchangeable elements. Although there are limitations to meta-analyses (e.g., due to publication biases, studies with non-significant findings tend to be underrepresented), meta-analysis has noteworthy advantages. These include:

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•

• •

•

They employ objective tests of the associations between variables including tests of effect sizes, thus avoiding some biases that can creep into narrative reviews. Chance, idiosyncratic findings are counterbalanced by dominant trends. When a given trend exists across several studies, even if it is not significant in all of them, it is likely to be significant when studies are combined. Moderator variables can be used to detect conditions under which findings do and do not hold.

Developmental Perspectives Directly or by implication, scattered acknowledgements of the developmental aspects of relationships can be found in the dark side series. These include: Relational uncertainty was initially formulated with regard to the beginning of relationships (Knobloch, 2007); there may be stages in the evolution of stalking (Cupach & Spitzberg, 2004); what initially attracts us to a partner may eventually become repelling (Felmlee, 1998); some negative aspects of relationships are stage specific (e.g., breaking-up, Weber, 1998); both Duck’s (1994) and Spitzberg and Cupach’s (2007b) typologies of darkness see the possibility of darkness as emerging over time; studies of parent–child relations acknowledge developmental processes (Eckstein, 2007; Morgan & Wilson, 2007; Petronio, 1994). Overall, however, developmental aspects of darkness are not as prominent as we feel they could be. We believe there are two important senses in which the developmental aspects of darkness could be further examined: (1) the development of relationships; and (2) lifespan development. In terms of development, relationship development is often divided into initiation, maintenance, and decline. Levinger (1980) offered a fivephase ABCDE model—attraction, building, continuation, deterioration, and ending. Apropos of lifespan development, at least as far back as such Greeks as Solon (c.600 BC), philosophers and social scientists (e.g., Erik Erikson) have been dividing life into stages. Shakespeare is famous for his seven-stage model. While there are differences between relational and lifespan development, a developmental perspectives gives rise to various generic questions. These include:

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• •

• •

• • •

At different stages are different aspects of relationship dark? Does the form of such dark phenomena remain constant across the lifespan or are there phenomena (e.g., insecure attachment) that persist but have different manifestations at different ages? How does the prevalence or intensity of negative phenomena (e.g., aggression) fluctuate by stage? To what extent can other factors present at early stages predict negative outcomes later on? To what extent can negative events in early stages predict other aspects of relationships later on? Are predictors of negative aspects the same across stages? Does the sequencing of developmental events (e.g., the order in which love, sex, and commitments occurs) matter? Does doing things at normative times as opposed to off times (early or late) matter?

Examples of research addressing some of these questions can be found. For example, both loneliness (Perlman, 1988) and marital violence (Suitor, Pillemer, & Straus, 1990) have been examined in a life course perspective. But such work has not always been linked to the dark side per se. More communication between currently isolated sets of researchers and more attention to a life course perspective within the dark side tradition is justified.

PAST AND FUTURE Science is a mixture of cumulative and creative. Scientific work builds on what comes before but strives to move ahead yet another step. As is manifest in Cupach and Spitzberg’s series, there is now an accumulation of knowledge on the dark side of communication and relationships. It has become a legitimate topic in the study of relationships. But scholarship marches forward. We are delighted that Cupach and Spitzberg have assembled this volume to further illuminate darkness. As always, they have drawn together talented contributors who are leading the way forward in this domain. One of the paradoxes and challenges of life is that relationships can be both so beneficial and so hurtful to us. The dark and bright are intertwined. Their juxtaposition undoubtedly adds to the stimulation we experience. By better understanding darkness we hope it will be possible to avoid some types of darkness and more fully derive the good that can come from pain. As you move on from this chapter to others in the book, the lens will be on darkness but we are confident it will produce light. Happy reading!

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(Eds.), The dark side of interpersonal communication (2nd ed., pp. 199–242). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Uchino, B. N., Cacioppo, J. T., & Kiecolt-Glaser, J. K. (1996). The relationship between social support and physiological processes: A review with emphasis on underlying mechanisms and implications for health. Psychological Bulletin, 119, 488–531. doi: 10.1037/0033-2909.119.3.488 VandenBos, G. R. (2007). APA dictionary of psychology. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. Vangelisti, A. L. (1994). Messages that hurt. In W. R. Cupach & B. H. Spitzberg (Eds.), The dark side of interpersonal communication (pp. 53–82). Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Vangelisti, A. L. (2007). Communicating hurt. In B. H. Spitzberg & W. R. Cupach (Eds.), The dark side of interpersonal communication (2nd ed., pp. 121–142). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Vangelisti, A. L., & Perlman, D. (Eds.). (2006). The Cambridge handbook of personal relationships. New York: Cambridge University Press. Vonk, R. (2001). Aversive self-presentations. In R. M. Kowalski (Ed.), Behaving badly: Aversive behaviors in interpersonal relationships (pp. 79–115). Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. doi: 10.1037/10365-004 Walster, E., Walster G. W., & Berscheid, E. (1978). Equity: Theory and research. Boston: Allyn and Bacon. Watt, J. H., & van den Berg, S. A. (2002). Research methods for communication science. Retrieved from www.llc.rpi.edu/web/ResearchMethodsForCommunicationScience/ Weber, A. L. (1998). Losing, leaving, and letting go: Coping with nonmarital breakups. In B. H. Spitzberg & W. R. Cupach (Eds.), The dark side of close relationships (pp. 267–306). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Weston, R. (2008). Insecure attachment mediates effects of partners’ emotional abuse and violence on women’s relationship quality. Journal of Family Violence, 23, 483–493. doi: 10.1007/s10896-008-9176-5 Zimbardo, P. G. (2004). A situationist perspective on the psychology of evil: Understanding how good people are transformed into perpetrators. In A. G. Miller (Ed.), The social psychology of good and evil (pp. 21–50). New York: Guilford.

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May–December Paradoxes: An Exploration of Age-Gap Relationships in Western Society Justin J. Lehmiller and Christopher R. Agnew

In the cinematic classic The Graduate, 21-year-old Benjamin Braddock (played by Dustin Hoffman) is seduced by the much older, but very attractive Mrs. Robinson (played by Anne Bancroft), the wife of one of his father’s friends. This seduction results in an ongoing affair that lasts for an entire summer. As the film progresses, the plot becomes a bit convoluted as Benjamin falls madly in love with Mrs. Robinson’s daughter, Elaine (played by Katherine Ross), who then becomes the target of his romantic pursuits. Although Benjamin and Elaine wind up together in the end, the relationship most often remembered and mentioned by viewers of this film is that initial affair between Benjamin and Mrs. Robinson. This is partly due to the extra-marital nature of the relationship, which was somewhat scandalous at the time of the film’s release in 1967. The bigger reason why this romance sticks out in people’s minds, however, is because it violated societal conventions with regard to partner age differences in romantic involvements. That is, in Western societies, and most other societies throughout the world, heterosexual men tend to be older than their female partners, and it is not uncommon for them to be significantly older. Relationships that follow this pattern typically attract relatively little attention and scrutiny. In contrast, heterosexual romances involving a woman who is older than her male partner are relatively rare and people usually take notice of them. This has

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been the case throughout history. Even today, more than 40 years after the release of The Graduate, the pairing of an older woman with a younger man in Hollywood is considered newsworthy by the popular media. In fact, such relationships are so novel that they have now become the primary focus of multiple television shows. Society does not tend to look favorably upon relationships in which the older partner is female, though, and the women involved are often judged in an especially harsh manner. In fact, rather than seeing them as women looking for true love, they are assumed to share Mrs. Robinson’s desire to seduce or sexually prey upon young men, being stereotyped as “cougars.” One of the goals of this chapter is to account for this seeming paradox— that is, why heterosexual age gaps only seem to be socially acceptable when the older partner is a man. To that end, we will consider a variety of social psychological theories relevant to romantic relationships that speak to the circumstances under which people are likely to desire younger or older romantic partners. In addition, this chapter will explore the relatively limited body of research that exists with regard to age-gap (also known as agediscrepant or ‘May–December’) romances, giving due consideration to other interesting paradoxes that have emerged as well as discussing the general effects that being in such a relationship has on various romantic outcomes. Finally, we will present an agenda for future research on this topic. We begin by discussing the ubiquity of age discrepancies in people’s romantic involvements as well as how age-gap relationships are defined. Before doing so, we should note that essentially all research conducted to date in this area has focused exclusively on age differences as they occur in heterosexual romantic involvements. For this reason, the primary focus of this chapter concerns heterosexual partnerships. Where possible, however, we also address age gaps as they are relevant to homosexual romances. Additionally, we should clarify that our interest is only in accounting for agegap relationships as they pertain to consenting adults. We are therefore not concerned here with age-gap relationships that are abusive, illegal, or nonconsensual in nature (e.g., child seduction, statutory rape).

AGE DIFFERENCES IN HETEROSEXUAL ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS In Western societies, adult men generally prefer female partners who are somewhat younger than themselves, while adult women generally prefer male partners who are somewhat older than themselves (e.g., Buss, 1989; Kenrick, Gabrielidis, Keefe, & Cornelius, 1996; Kenrick & Keefe, 1992). Such findings have been noted across numerous studies using a variety of methods (e.g., asking participants how likely they would be to date targets of various ages, analyzing the content of personal advertisements placed in newspapers). On

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average, men prefer partners approximately three years younger, in contrast with women, who prefer partners approximately three years older (Buss, 1989). Consistent with these preferences, United Nations (2000) data indicate that the average marital age gap is just under three years in North America (2.7 years on average in both the United States and Canada), with the direction of the discrepancy favoring men as the older partners. Marital age-discrepancies throughout Europe and South America are fairly similar. Although the focus of this chapter is on age-gap relationships in Western societies, the general tendency for older men to pair with younger women is a worldwide phenomenon that has been documented in virtually all human societies, both past and present (see Ni Bhrolchain, 2006). There is some variability, however, in terms of the size of the average marital age difference across cultures (United Nations, 2000). For instance, in some African countries, the average age difference between married partners is three times the size of that in most Western countries, approaching almost 10 years in some cases. This suggests that in non-Western countries, partner age preferences might be vastly different given variations in cultural norms. As some demonstration of this variability, average age differences between husbands and wives in selected regions throughout the world are presented in Table 2.1. Within Western societies, though, both men and women appear willing to consider partners who fall outside of the desired +/– three-year window. Specifically, men’s minimum acceptable age for a female partner is several years below their own age (five to 15 years, with older men willing to consider relationships with larger age differences). In comparison, women’s maximum acceptable age for a male partner is approximately 10 years above their own age, with this number remaining relatively constant as women age (Kenrick & Keefe, 1992). Thus, although there appears to be a general TABLE 2.1

Average Age Difference between Husbands and Wives in Selected Worldwide Regions Continent/Region

Average Age Difference

Africa (Eastern) Africa (Western) Asia (Eastern) Asia (Western) Australia/New Zealand Europe (Eastern) Europe (Western) North America South America

4.31 6.59 2.44 3.48 2.15 3.11 2.70 2.30 2.89

Note: Age differences were calculated by subtracting the wife’s age from the husband’s age. Positive numbers therefore indicate that husbands tend to be older than wives. Data obtained from United Nations (2000).

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preference for small age gaps in Westerners’ relationships, they appear to remain open to somewhat larger age gaps. Openness to larger age gaps is moderated by multiple factors, however, including one’s sex, chronological age, as well as whether one is on one’s first or a later marriage (for an extensive discussion of these and other moderators, see Ni Bhrolchain, 2006). For instance, the older a man is at the time of marriage, the younger his female partner is likely to be. In other words, as men get older, their tendency to partner with someone younger actually increases. The converse is true for women—the older a woman is at the time of marriage, the smaller the size of the relational age gap (Ni Bhrolchain, 2006). Another interesting paradox is that when men remarry, that union is likely to carry a greater age difference than the first marriage. For remarrying women, though, they tend to be closer in age to the new husband than their original partner (Ni Bhrolchain, 2006). Taken together, the above findings indicate that at least some age difference is normative in heterosexual romantic involvements, but clearly the relative size of this difference varies depending upon numerous factors. This makes defining what constitutes a truly age-discrepant relationship (i.e., one that is perceived by society as anomalous) somewhat subjective. Complicating matters further, the social significance ascribed to a given age difference will vary depending upon where the partners involved currently are in the lifespan. For instance, a five-year age gap likely means little when the younger partner is 50 years old. In contrast, a five-year age difference likely means much more when the younger partner is only 16 or 17, which just meets the age of sexual consent in most Western countries. Thus, it is difficult to pinpoint the minimum age-gap threshold that would consistently be perceived as violating social conventions. In the social psychological literature, age-gap relationships have recently been defined as romantic involvements in which there is a difference of greater than 10 years in age between the partners (Lehmiller & Agnew, 2006, 2007, 2008). It is proposed that an age difference of more than 10 years is likely to carry some meaning for partners in any relationship, regardless of the actual age of the individuals involved. Moreover, when people are asked to consider how much of an age difference they would be willing to accept when selecting a romantic partner, 10 years appears to be the maximum acceptable difference on average, particularly for women (Kenrick & Keefe, 1992). Because differences beyond 10 years appear to be regarded as nonnormative by almost everyone except for much older men, it seems especially informative to consider this as a general starting point for defining an agegap romance. Of course, however, this definition might fail to capture certain individuals who consider a smaller age discrepancy to be meaningful depending upon their idiosyncratic social circumstances. Additionally, this cutoff might need to be revised in cross-cultural studies, given the aforementioned

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2. MAY–DECEMBER PARADOXES TABLE 2.2

Age Differences between Husbands and Wives in the United States Age Difference

Percentage of All Married Couples

Husband 20+ Years Older Husband 15–19 Years Older Husband 10–14 Years Older Husband 6–9 Years Older Husband 4–5 Years Older Husband 2–3 Years Older Husband and Wife within 1 Year Wife 2–3 Years Older Wife 4–5 Years Older Wife 6–9 Years Older Wife 10–14 Years Older Wife 15–19 Years Older Wife 20+ Years Older

0.8 1.5 4.9 12.3 13.8 22.1 32.4 5.9 2.9 2.2 0.9 0.2 0.2

Note: Data obtained from U.S. Census Bureau (1999).

variability in age-gap size that has been documented in some African countries (United Nations, 2000). With this operational definition for age-gap relationships in mind, one might wonder just how common such romances are in Western society. Not surprisingly, although small age discrepancies are common, true age-gap relationships are in the minority, but they certainly are not insignificant in number. For instance, United States census data indicate that 8.5% of married couples are involved in age-gap relationships (7.2% involve an older man, 1.3% involve an older woman; U.S. Census Bureau, 1999). For enhanced perspective, Table 2.2 provides a complete breakdown of age differences between husbands and wives in the United States. Canadian census data are virtually identical, with 8% of male–female unions classified as age-gap (7% involve an older man, 1% involve an older woman: Boyd & Li, 2003). The Canadian data are particularly interesting in that they suggest age gaps are more prevalent among same-sex partners (26% of male samesex couples, 18% of female same-sex couples) compared to heterosexual couples. Although it is not clear what accounts for this difference, together these data indicate that age-gap relationships certainly do exist in Western society, but having a substantial (i.e., greater than 10-year) age discrepancy does not appear to be the norm.

THEORETICAL PERSPECTIVES ON AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIPS The preceding discussion suggests that age differences in heterosexual romantic relationships are relatively common and that, in general, men tend

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to be the older partners. With that in mind, the real question then becomes how best to explain this pattern of findings. We now turn our focus to several social psychological perspectives that can potentially explain the existence of relational age discrepancies and that would make specific predictions about (1) the consequences of being involved in an age-gap partnership and (2) how outside observers might perceive such relationships. These perspectives fall into two broad classes: Those derived from evolutionary theory, and those derived from socio-cultural theories.

Evolutionary Perspectives on Age-Gap Relationships The evolutionary perspective (e.g., Buss, 1989; Kenrick & Keefe, 1992) argues that modern-day men’s and women’s partner age preferences can be explained as a function of selective processes that occurred in our evolutionary history. Because men and women invest different resources in order to produce offspring, they should have evolved preferences for different characteristics in potential sexual and romantic partners. In producing children, men tend to invest resources such as food, shelter, and security. As a result, women should be more attracted to men who possess those resources or have demonstrated potential at obtaining such resources in order to ensure survival for themselves and any potential offspring produced. Because men are likely to accumulate more of these resources as they age, women should prefer male partners who are older than themselves. In comparison, due to the nature of human sexual reproduction, women invest much more in the way of bodily resources in producing children. Men consequently should be more attracted to women who appear to be healthy and fertile, thus improving the chances of successful sexual reproduction. Age is an important visible cue of a woman’s fertility, given that women have a limited reproductive window. Because women are only capable of reproduction from puberty until the onset of menopause (which is currently between ages 51 and 52 on average in the United States: Gold et al., 2001) and have peak reproductive capability in their twenties, men should generally have a preference for younger female partners, particularly those who are in their reproductive years. This helps to explain why younger men’s age preferences are not as pronounced as those of older men. That is, preferring partners much younger than oneself is not necessarily advantageous for an already youthful man to successfully reproduce (and, in fact, may actually harm his chances); as men age, however, preferring younger and younger partners is more likely to result in successful reproduction. Also, because men need to expend few bodily resources to produce children and do not experience a precipitous drop in fertility as they age (Menken & Larsen, 1986), male youth is less likely to be valued by women. Certainly, men’s health

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does decline with age and reproduction may become somewhat more difficult, but this is likely to be offset in terms of how they are viewed by the other sex due to the fact that men’s resources may continue to build even when they are no longer in the prime of their lives. Thus, from the evolutionary perspective, the pairing of an older man with a younger woman is one that tends to favor reproductive success because younger women are more fertile and older men are more likely to possess the resources necessary to support any potential offspring. This is consistent with the research presented above demonstrating that, throughout the world, men seem to desire and marry younger female partners, while women typically desire and marry older male partners. From this standpoint, one might expect that age-gap relationships in which the woman is younger than her male partner will result in greater relationship satisfaction and commitment relative to relationships in which the female partner is older because both partners’ procreative needs are being met in this case (assuming, that is, that we are talking about women who are potentially of childbearing age). One might also expect that such relationships will be perceived as more normative by society and that age gaps that occur in the opposite direction (i.e., when the female partner is older) will be greater targets of social disapproval because they run contrary to our evolved tendencies. Although the evolutionary perspective fits well with the above data on partner age preferences and marital age gaps, it is not without its limitations (for a detailed discussion, see Ni Bhrolchain, 2006). For example, an analysis of personal advertisements placed in newspapers by homosexual individuals revealed that they exhibit very similar age preferences to heterosexual individuals, particularly when looking at data from men (e.g., Hayes, 1995; cf. Chapter 5, this volume). It is unclear why this would be the case, given that an age preference one way or the other has no bearing on reproductive potential for homosexual persons. As a further limitation, heterosexual men seem open to potential partners within a relatively wide age range (Kenrick et al., 1996; Ni Bhrolchain, 2006). If reproductive potential truly is the driving force behind men’s age preferences, it would seem more logical for heterosexual men, regardless of age, to largely prefer women in their peak reproductive years.

Socio-Cultural Perspectives on Age-Gap Relationships In contrast to the evolutionary perspective, a variety of socio-cultural perspectives also provide compelling accounts of age-related preferences and make quite different predictions about the implications of being involved in an age-gap romance. In particular, we address in detail two major perspectives:

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The equity and social exchange views, and the social role view. We also give consideration to a few other socio-cultural possibilities that have emerged in the literature.

The Equity and Social Exchange Perspectives. Another way to explain men and women’s partner age preferences is to think of heterosexual relationships in social exchange terms. At the most basic level, social exchange theory (Homans, 1961; Thibaut & Kelley, 1959) proposes that how we feel about a given social interaction or relationship fundamentally depends upon the perceived outcomes (i.e., costs and benefits) associated with it. Specifically, when rewards are high and costs are seen as low, we tend to feel good about a relationship and will stay in it. If perceived costs increase and/or perceived benefits decrease, however, satisfaction with the relationship will decline and we are more likely to end it. In the context of an age-gap relationship, an older man providing resources for a young, attractive woman can be viewed as a social exchange. That is, he provides shelter, food, and security in exchange for her providing sex and, thereby, an opportunity for procreation (for a more elaborated discussion on the idea of sex as a form of social exchange, see Baumeister & Vohs, 2004). It is likely that such an arrangement would be perceived as carrying a favorable cost-to-benefit ratio for all involved because it meets important needs for both partners. From this perspective, one might reasonably deduce that older men and younger women will be drawn toward one another because the circumstances are likely to promote an optimal social exchange. An important caveat to this, however, is that people’s perceptions of their relationships depend upon whether the social exchanges that occur are equitable (Walster, Walster, & Berscheid, 1978). Equitable or fair exchanges are necessary in order to avoid conflict between relationship partners. Although the exchange of sex for resources might carry benefits for both men and women, women typically hold less social power and status compared to men in Western society and thus might not be receiving as good a deal as men in such exchanges. From this perspective, one could make the case that age-gap relationships involving an older woman with a younger man might actually produce more equitable outcomes and, consequently, greater relationship satisfaction compared to relationships in which the women is the younger partner. That is, perhaps woman-older relationships are more egalitarian than woman-younger relationships because women have more power when they are older than their male partners. For example, they may be more established in their life circumstances and/or more financially secure. To the extent that woman-older relationships are more equal than those in which the woman is younger, woman-older partners may find

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themselves to be more satisfied and committed, given that perceived relationship equality tends to be positively associated with both relationship satisfaction (e.g., Donaghue & Fallon, 2003) and commitment (e.g., Winn, Crawford, & Fischer, 1991). Such a prediction stands in stark contrast to what might be expected based on the evolutionary perspective.

Social Role Perspective. Another plausible socio-cultural explanation for men and women’s partner age preferences can be derived from social role theory (Eagly, 1987; Eagly & Wood, 1999). From this perspective, the traditional division of labor between the sexes has resulted in women typically fulfilling the social role of homemaker (domestic labor) and men typically fulfilling the social role of provider (wage labor). As a consequence of occupying these different social roles, men and women have developed distinct psychological tendencies, particularly when it comes to mate preferences. If women are more likely to anticipate that they will be staying home to raise children and men are more likely to anticipate being responsible for paying the bills (which is not difficult to imagine, given the well known facts that men are not only more likely to be employed in the labor force, but also to make more money: U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, 2007), it would make sense that women would attempt to seek male partners who are successful wage earners, while men would attempt to seek female partners who are competent at domestic tasks. As a result, pairings between older men and younger women seem logical because they are consistent with the traditional provider–homemaker marital arrangement. As some evidence for the social role view, experimental research demonstrates that when participants are asked to envision themselves in the future role of either homemaker or provider, participants who imagine themselves as future homemakers emphasize the importance of the provider qualities of their future mate, including the desire for an older spouse; participants who imagine themselves as future providers emphasize the importance of the homemaker qualities of their future mate, including the desire for a younger spouse (Eagly, Eastwick, & Johannesen-Schmidt, 2009). Importantly, these findings hold for both men and women. This suggests that sex-specific age preferences are not completely static and may very well depend upon the social role one envisions fulfilling in the future. Thus, men who do not anticipate being the primary provider in the future should be more open and willing to consider female partners who are older than themselves. This perspective implies that people’s perceptions of age-gap relationships may be largely a function of the degree to which they subscribe to traditional gender role beliefs. In particular, among those who are strong proponents of traditional gender role ideology, woman-younger relationships should be perceived as more socially normative and likely to carry greater chances of

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relationship success. Among those who possess non-traditional gender role beliefs, the direction of the age gap may not be perceived as being of much consequence. In fact, for them, woman-older relationships may be perceived as more empowering and, thus, more likely to be successful. Again, the predictions derived from this perspective stand in sharp contrast to those based on the evolutionary standpoint. Moreover, this perspective suggests that traditional gender role beliefs may be an extremely important moderator variable to consider when examining perceptions of age-gap couples as well as relational processes within age-gap involvements.

Other Socio-Cultural Perspectives. Of course, there are other ways of explaining age-gap relationships from a socio-cultural perspective. For instance, perhaps younger women are more likely to pair with older men because this results in greater psychological similarity between the partners (Ni Bhrolchain, 2006). A mountain of social psychological studies indicate that similarity is one of the driving forces behind romantic attraction (e.g., Byrne, Clore, & Smeaton, 1986; Newcomb, 1978). Although people often seek romantic partners who are similar to themselves in terms of age, this is not a universal trend. Some have argued that because girls tend to grow up faster than boys, they may find boys their own age to be immature and, consequently, not particularly good long-term romantic prospects. As a result, women may need to look for older male partners in order to find someone who matches them in terms of maturity level, social skills, or desire for a long-term commitment. In other words, the pairing of an older man and a younger woman may be one way of finding a partner who provides a good match with respect to level of psycho-social development. Yet another possibility is that older man–younger woman relationships are more likely to occur because this type of pairing represents an important means of uncertainty reduction for female partners (Ni Bhrolchain, 2006). This perspective builds upon several of the theories discussed above, including the evolutionary, social exchange, and social role views. Most of these theories would suggest that a woman’s economic standing is dependent upon the future success of her male partner. To the extent that this is true, women may be motivated to carefully consider the economic potential of any prospective mate very carefully in order to reduce uncertainty about their future. Because older men are likely to have accomplished more and may have already achieved economic success, women who select older partners are likely to find that this yields more predictable economic results. When women choose younger partners or someone their own age, this may be a risky bet because the future earning prospects of such men are unclear. Both this and the preceding perspective clearly have more to say about age-gap relationships that occur in the more common direction of older

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man–younger woman. As a result, they are somewhat limited in that regard. Nonetheless, they reflect intriguing and viable accounts of at least one important age-gap subtype. As should be evident from this discussion, there are certainly a variety of plausible explanations for the existence of age-gap romances. It should be noted, however, that although one could derive different sets of predictions from the evolutionary and socio-cultural perspectives regarding preferences for age-gap relationships and which types of romances (i.e., woman-older or woman-younger) are likely to be most successful, this is not to say that these theoretical viewpoints are inherently incompatible with one another. It could very possibly be the case that elements from each perspective provide different pieces of the puzzle, a point that we return to later in this chapter.

THE EMPIRICAL VIEW OF AGE-GAP RELATIONSHIPS Despite extensive theorizing on the topic of age-gap relationships, very few studies explicitly addressing such relationships have been conducted, and most published work in this area has been somewhat atheoretical. We review the documented findings below and synthesize them with the relevant perspectives discussed above, but as will soon become clear, much more research is needed in this interesting, but understudied, area. In the sections that follow, we first consider research addressing societal perceptions of age-discrepant couples and the degree to which age-gap partners perceive their romances as being socially marginalized. Next, we move on to consider research that addresses what it is that keeps age-gap involvements going. In the process, we address both the ups and downs of being part of an age-discrepant relationship, with particular emphasis on implications for romantic commitment.

Societal Perceptions of Age-Gap Relationships An interesting paradox emerges when considering perceptions of age-gap couples: Although men and women typically report a preference for and openness to age gaps in their own relationships (Buss, 1989; Kenrick & Keefe, 1992), they typically disapprove of age gaps in others’ romantic involvements. For instance, using data from a community sample, Banks and Arnold (2001) found that participants of both sexes generally disapproved of age-gap relationships, regardless of whether the male or female partner was older, though women-older relationships were more likely to be the targets of opposition. In this work, they considered age gaps ranging anywhere from

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five to 50 years and found that disapproval ratings increased substantially as the age difference between the partners increased. Using data obtained from both adult and adolescent samples, Cowan (1984) likewise found that participants rated age-gap relationships as less likely to succeed than relationships in which no partner age discrepancy was present. Age-gap involvements in which the woman was older were perceived as even more likely to fail. Results of these studies would seem to suggest that at least some degree of bias exists against all age-gap couples, but particularly those in which the woman is older. This seems at least partially consistent with the evolutionary perspective in the sense that relationships that are inconsistent with evolved tendencies (i.e., male preferences for younger women and female preferences for older men) are more likely to be socially rejected. Regardless of the direction of the age gap, another interesting paradox is that women tend to bear the brunt of the social criticism levied against agediscrepant couples, while the men involved seem to be ignored for the most part. For instance, it is commonplace for women who are older than their male partners to be stereotyped as “cougars,” a label suggesting that such women are more likely to be seen as sexual predators rather than individuals seeking true love (Voo, 2007). Likewise, younger women paired with older male partners are often stereotyped as well, frequently being labeled as “gold-diggers.” Again, this label suggests that such women are not in the relationship for true love, but rather, in this case, a desire for material things (Turner, 2008). Negative stereotypes do not seem to exist for men involved in age-gap relationships, regardless of whether they are the younger or older partners. Although an older men who pairs with a younger woman may sometimes be referred to as a “cradle robber,” this term is not nearly as ubiquitous in modern society as the term applied to his female partner (“gold-digger”). Socially speaking, men seem to get a free pass. In fact, older men who pair with much younger women may even receive praise and admiration for having done so, particularly from other men. Thus, when men apply the “cradle robber” title to one another, it may actually have positive connotations. This is consistent with the notion of the sexual double standard (e.g., Milhausen & Herold, 1999), the idea that women (unlike men) are socially denigrated for behaving in sexually permissive ways. Indeed, the stereotypes for women involved in age-gap relationships are suggestive of sexual permissiveness. That is, the women involved are either seen as being in it for sex (cougar) or they are essentially perceived to be trading their bodies for money (gold-digger). Any way you look at it, the women involved tend to be judged more harshly by society compared to the men. Finally, it is important to note that this bias against age-gap relationships does not go unnoticed by partners involved. Indeed, age-gap couples (defined as partners separated in age by more than 10 years) perceive substantially more social disapproval regarding their relationship than do

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couples with only a minimal or no age gap. In fact, in one study, age-discrepant couples reported experiencing significantly more social disapproval than individuals involved in gay or interracial relationships (Lehmiller & Agnew, 2006). In another study, age-gap partners reported possessing normative beliefs that were less supportive of their partnerships compared to similarly aged partners (Lehmiller & Agnew, 2008). In other words, compared to people who were similar in age to their partners, age-gap partners were more likely to believe that the people they care about (i.e., their family and friends) would prefer that they end their current romantic relationship. Thus, it seems that age-gap partners are well aware of the social hurdles they face as a result of their romantic involvement.

Relationship Outcomes in Age-Gap Involvements Until recently, age-gap relationships were assumed to have relatively negative consequences for the partners involved (Berardo, Appel, & Berardo, 1993). It was thought such involvements would encounter problems as a result of significant power imbalances and clashes in personal values stemming from the fact that the partners grew up in different generations. Given the largely negative societal perceptions of age-gap couples discussed above, one might also assume that difficulties would simply be inherent in such relationships as a result of their reduced likelihood of social acceptance. Empirical research conducted over the past decade, however, would seem to suggest that this is not entirely true. That is, although the low esteem in which agegap relationships are held by society does have negative implications for commitment and stability in such partnerships, there do seem to be many positive elements to these romances as well.

The Dark Side of Age-Gap Relationships. An obvious dark side of age-gap relationships implied by the research discussed above is the social marginalization that can result. Individuals involved in age-gap relationships often perceive their partnerships as the targets of social bias from both their own social networks as well as society at large (Lehmiller & Agnew, 2006), which has negative consequences for such romances. For instance, Lehmiller and Agnew (2006) found that greater levels of perceived marginalization were associated with lower levels of relational commitment in a cross-sectional study that included a respectably sized sub-sample of age-gap partners. It also appears that the negative effects of perceived marginalization on commitment have implications for the future stability of those involvements. In a longitudinal follow-up study, Lehmiller and Agnew (2007) found that perceived marginalization significantly predicted break-up status assessed

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approximately seven months later. The nature of this effect was such that those individuals who perceived more social disapproval at Time 1 were more likely to have broken up at Time 2. Commitment to the relationship mediated this association, indicating that perceived marginalization appears to increase the likelihood of relationship dissolution as a result of reducing commitment to the partnership. It was also documented that perceived marginalization by one’s social network appeared to be more damaging to the relationship than perceived marginalization by society. This suggests people may have better ability to ignore society’s harsh views of their relationship compared to the views of their family and friends. None of these findings were moderated by type of relationship, and in these particular studies, age-gap, interracial, and same-sex partners were all included in the samples. This suggests that it is not the presence of an age gap per se that might harm commitment in age-discrepant romances, but rather it is the perception of social disapproval that is the key. In other words, age-gap relationships are not doomed to fail simply because of the age discrepancy that exists between the partners. Indeed, the theoretical accounts proffered would generally tend to predict such relationships as potentially more functional and stable because of the forces moving people to make such mating choices. Instead, the social network in which such relationships are embedded appears to have extremely important consequences for the future success of such relationships (see Etcheverry & Agnew, 2004). This suggests that age-gap partners who are surrounded by more support may have better relationship outcomes than those who find themselves in less supportive social environments. As some final additional evidence for the key role that social perceptions play in the success of age-gap partnerships, Lehmiller and Agnew (2008) found that normative beliefs (i.e., the beliefs one has regarding what others think about one’s relationship) predict relationship commitment in a sample composed exclusively of partners involved in age-gap romances. The more that age-gap partners believe others around them want their current relationship to end, the less committed the partners tend to be to that relationship. Although this finding held more strongly for woman-older compared to woman-younger partners in this study, these results provide additional evidence that social support seems to have major implications for whether age-gap relationships are likely to stand the test of time.

The Silver Linings of Age-Gap Relationships. Despite perceiving a general lack of approval and support for their romantic involvements, age-gap partners seemingly find that there is much to like when it comes to their relationships. For instance, Groot and Van Den Brink (2002) examined the association between life satisfaction and marital age gaps (in this study, a

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continuous rather than a dichotomous age-gap measure was used). Their results revealed that an age gap in which the husband was older than the wife was associated with increases in life satisfaction for both men and women. In other words, both men and women were generally happier with their lives to the extent that their household consisted of a husband who was older than the wife, compared to households in which spouses were of the same age or the wife was older than the husband. This finding can be interpreted as consistent with the evolutionary perspective, which posits that relational age gaps are advantageous to the extent that the direction of the age gap maximizes each partner’s potential for reproductive success (Buss, 1989). In addition to increased life satisfaction, research suggests age-gap relationships fare well in other regards. For instance, age-gap partners appear to be more trusting, less jealous, and less selfish in their relationships compared to persons who are more similar in age to their romantic partners (Zak et al., 2001). Age-gap relationships were somewhat arbitrarily defined in this study, however, with discrepancies of four or more years considered as “agedissimilar” and less than four years as “age-similar.” This is likely attributable to the fact that most participants were college students, meaning that there was relatively little variability when it came to partner age differences. Despite these limitations, however, one can interpret these findings as supportive of the socio-cultural view, particularly the notion that women may be attracted to older male partners because they are more similar in terms of psychosocial development (Ni Bhrolchain, 2006). In other words, to the extent that both partners are more mature in an age-gap relationship, it could lead them to be more trusting of one another and less jealous. Finally, there is also some research to suggest that age-gap partners may be more committed to one another than similarly-aged partners, at least in some cases. For instance, in a study of women involved in age-gap relationships, mean levels of relationship commitment tended to be higher among age-gap partners relative to similarly-aged partners (Lehmiller & Agnew, 2008). In this study, the sample was broken down into women who were older than their male partners by more than 10 years (22 years on average), women who were younger than their male partners by more than 10 years (17 years on average), and women who were similar in age to their partners (i.e., 10 or fewer years apart in age; approximately three years on average). The sample was restricted to women aged 52 (the average age of menopause onset: Gold et al., 2001) and younger to ensure that all women were at least potentially of reproductive age. Results indicated women-older partners were the most committed to their relationships, and significantly more so compared to women who were similar in age to their partners. Commitment levels for women-younger partners fell in between those of the other two groups and did not significantly differ from either one.

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These results seem to be more supportive of the socio-cultural view rather than the evolutionary view. Recall that the evolutionary view might suggest that commitment would be highest among women-younger partners because such an arrangement maximizes reproductive potential for both men and women (Buss, 1989). In this study (Lehmiller & Agnew, 2008), however, woman-older partners were the most committed, despite the fact that the sample was restricted only to women who were potentially capable of reproduction. One plausible socio-cultural interpretation of these findings is that woman-older relationships are more equitable for the partners involved and, thus, more satisfying compared to relationships in which the woman is younger than or similar in age to her male partner. Thus, greater equality between partners may underlie the enhanced commitment observed among those involved in women-older partnerships.

The Investment Model in Age-Gap Relationships. One final aspect of age-gap relationships that has received some empirical attention is the degree to which traditional models of interpersonal commitment are relevant in the case of such partnerships. Lehmiller and Agnew (2008) explored the applicability of Rusbult’s (1980, 1983) investment model of commitment in a sample of women involved in age-gap relationships. The investment model posits that commitment to a given relationship arises from three related, but distinct, factors: Satisfaction level, perceived quality of alternatives, and investment size. Satisfaction level refers to one’s subjective evaluation of the relationship, particularly one’s assessment of how positively or negatively things are going. Quality of alternatives refers to the degree to which one’s alternatives to the current relationship are viewed as attractive, or the degree to which one’s needs could be met easily outside of one’s current partnership. Last, investments refer to all of those things tied to one’s relationship that would be lost or diminished in value were the relationship to end. Investments can include both tangible (e.g., children, shared possessions) and intangible elements (e.g., time, effort) already sunk into the relationship, or things that individuals plan to invest into the partnership at some point in the future (Goodfriend & Agnew, 2008). Satisfaction, alternatives, and investments have each been shown to be unique and reliable predictors of relationship commitment and, together, explain the lion’s share of the variance in this construct (see Le & Agnew, 2003 for a meta-analysis). Moreover, this model has been successfully applied to several different types of relationships, including friendships (Rusbult, 1980) and abusive relationships (Rusbult & Martz, 1995). In the case of age-gap relationships, however, Lehmiller and Agnew (2008) encountered some limits to the generalizability of the investment model. Specifically, among women-older partners, only satisfaction emerged as a

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significant commitment predictor, with greater satisfaction being associated with stronger commitment. Among women-younger partners, only satisfaction and investments were unique predictors, with higher satisfaction and investments being associated with greater commitment. These findings stand in contrast to results typically obtained in investment model research, in which all three variables are usually found to independently predict commitment. Furthermore, the explained variance in commitment was much lower among both types of age-gap partners compared to what is usually observed. That is, the investment model variables explained only onesixth of the variance in commitment among women-older partners and about one-half among woman-younger partners. In comparison, in their metaanalysis of the investment model, Le and Agnew (2003) found that these three variables explained about two-thirds of the variance in commitment on average in more traditional (i.e., not age-discrepant) romantic relationships. These results would seem to suggest that when it comes to studying commitment to age-gap relationships, it is important to consider variables that fall beyond the scope of those considered by the investment model. For instance, in age-gap and other socially marginalized types of romantic relationships, variables such as social support, perceptions of relationship approval/disapproval, or perceived prejudice/discrimination might be especially strong contributors to commitment (e.g., Lehmiller & Agnew, 2007). More specific to age-gap partnerships, another possibility is that variables specified by the evolutionary and socio-cultural perspectives discussed above might emerge as potent commitment predictors (e.g., perceived equity, similarity). This raises the possibility that the variables underlying commitment might differ depending upon the direction of the age gap. For instance, based on both the evolutionary and social role perspectives, one might anticipate that woman-younger partners would find investments (particularly those of a financial nature) to be more powerful inducements to stay in their relationship compared to woman-older partners. Indeed, this would be consistent with Lehmiller and Agnew’s (2008) results, which indicated that investments were a unique commitment predictor for women-younger but not women-older partners. In comparison, from the socio-cultural perspective, one might anticipate that among women-older partners, perceptions of equity would be strongly tied to feelings of commitment, whereas it would likely be less important among womanyounger partners. Thus, understanding the bases of commitment to different kinds of age-gap relationships is a topic that warrants further study.

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DIRECTIONS FOR FUTURE RESEARCH With our review of the literature on age-gap relationships complete, we now present a detailed agenda for future research on this topic that builds upon existing work and attempts to bridge the various theoretical perspectives discussed earlier. First and foremost, it is imperative that future research examines relational age gaps in a consistent manner. In past studies, researchers have approached this issue in quite different ways, with some employing continuous age-gap measures and others employing dichotomous measures. Although more studies have employed dichotomous measures, there has not been consistency in terms of how an “age-gap” relationship is defined. For example, some have considered four or more years to be an age gap (Zak et al., 2001), whereas others have drawn the line at 10 years (Lehmiller & Agnew, 2006, 2007, 2008). As noted above, the 10-year mark is the current social psychological convention, and this makes sense given that such a difference seems to be regarded as a normative cutoff point in Westerners’ preferences for relational age gaps (Kenrick & Keefe, 1992). It is important to keep in mind, however, that cross-cultural variations in terms of what is perceived to be an acceptable relational age gap (United Nations, 2000) suggest that agediscrepant relationships may need to be defined differently for research conducted in non-Western societies. We propose that research exploring the effects of relational age gaps may benefit from approaching this issue in more than one way. Past studies have shown effects based on both categorical and continuous age-gap measures. Thus, in order to provide a richer perspective, we suggest that future researchers analyze their data using both a continuous measure, as well as a dichotomous measure that is based on normative cutoffs for the specific culture from which the sample is obtained. This would provide better insights into whether the simple presence of a relational age gap is important, or whether the type of effects that an age gap has on the partners involved is a function of the relative size of the age discrepancy. Researchers should also take into account the added effects of the direction of the age gap (i.e., woman-older vs. woman-younger), because it is possible that direction may moderate the effects of age-gap size. For example, perhaps the size of an age gap matters more when the woman is the older partner compared to when the man is older. Second, research on age-gap relationships needs to be more driven by psychological and interactional theory. In particular, researchers should design their studies to explicitly address predictions generated by the evolutionary and socio-cultural perspectives. Although both perspectives have received some empirical support to date, much more research is needed to determine whether the weight of the evidence more strongly supports one

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perspective over the other. As discussed above, however, it is entirely possible that both perspectives are at least partially correct. For example, the evolutionary perspective may be best suited to explain the tendency for younger women to pair with older men, as well as why people tend to perceive womanyounger relationships as more socially normative than those in which the woman is older. In contrast, the socio-cultural perspective may be best suited to explain why woman-older relationships sometimes emerge, as well as why the partners involved might be more committed to such romances than persons involved in woman-younger relationships. On a related note, it is worth pointing out that both of these perspectives are complementary in a number of ways and generate many of the same predictions. For example, the evolutionary, social role, and social exchange views would all seem to suggest that the pairing of a younger woman with an older man makes a lot of sense. In fact, these different perspectives may all work together to explain why men generally tend to be older than their female partners. Evolutionary drives may have resulted in a tendency for women and men to adopt different social roles (i.e., homemaker vs. provider, respectively). As a result of men and women adopting and envisioning themselves in these general roles, they may have developed tendencies to make certain types of social exchanges in their romantic relationships (i.e., sex and children for resources). Future research that attempts to fuse these different perspectives together in such a way would be useful. Third, although we have some sense as to what the consequences of involvement in an age-gap relationship are on various relational outcomes, such as satisfaction and commitment, we know relatively little about the impact on relationship processes. In particular, the topics of communication, power, and conflict are ripe areas for exploration in such relationships, given the generational differences that exist between partners. Taking a step back from relationship processes, however, studies that address what it is that actually brings partners together in age-gap involvements are also needed. Research that addresses the topic of attraction in such relationships and what keeps them going over time would speak volumes about the viability of the evolutionary and socio-cultural perspectives discussed earlier. Thus, researchers should assess the extent to which individuals involved in age-gap relationships report that factors such as desire for sex/children/resources, belief in traditional gender roles, and perceived similarity were important in initial attraction to their current partner and play a role in relationship maintenance. Of course, those involved in such relationships may not be conscious of the actual factors at play or may purposely misrepresent them to researchers, but the absence of self-reports on perceived factors leading to age-discrepant involvements needs to be rectified. Future research must attempt to recruit more diverse samples of persons involved in age-gap romances. In particular, we know relatively little about

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the male partners from age-gap relationships of greater than 10 years because most work has focused primarily on women (Lehmiller & Agnew, 2008). Thus, we need data from men who are significantly older and men who are significantly younger than their partners. This would allow for a better sense of the degree to which men and women differ in terms of their motives for beginning age-gap relationships, and also whether commitment to such relationships is based on different things for partners of each sex. Future research would likewise benefit from addressing the issue of age gaps in same-sex relationships. It is clear that gay and lesbian individuals are just as open to relational age gaps as heterosexual persons (Hayes, 1995). Perhaps even more interesting, however, is the fact that Canadian census data seem to indicate that significant age gaps may be even more prevalent in same-sex compared to other-sex partnerships (Boyd & Li, 2003). Exactly what attracts gay and lesbian individuals to age-gap relationships, though, is unclear. One possibility worth exploring in future research is whether gay and lesbian individuals perceive a smaller “field of eligibles” (i.e., the overall group of persons with whom one could potentially partner; Winch, 1958) compared to heterosexuals. If so, this might increase the latitude of acceptance when it comes to a potential partner’s demographic characteristics among gays and lesbians. Other explanations are certainly possible, but obtaining a better understanding of the degree to which the motives for entering age-gap relationships are similar or different for heterosexual and homosexual individuals would provide even greater insight into the theoretical perspectives discussed above. More broadly, the degree to which the presence of an age gap overlaps with the presence of another marginalized category (e.g., a same-sex or interracial relationship) is a topic that merits study. For instance, when a relationship is marginalized on multiple levels, it is unclear what categories outside perceivers pay attention to and what their evaluations of the relationship are based upon. It could be the case that relationships that violate social norms in several ways are subject to increasingly negative evaluation. It could also be the case, however, that there is no such additive effect and that violating one social norm is perceived as being just as bad as violating several of them. Thus, it is unclear how such relationships are viewed by others and, even more importantly, we do not know whether such relationships fare differently from romances that are marginalized based on only one category.

CONCLUSIONS Unlike what the popular media and classic films such as The Graduate might suggest, age-gap relationships are more than just Hollywood fiction.

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According to census estimates, one in 12 married couples in the United States is involved in an age-gap relationship (U.S. Census Bureau, 1999). Such numbers indicate that these romances certainly are neither rare empirically nor in social awareness. Nonetheless, social psychologists and other researchers have been slow to address this topic in the relationships literature. The minimal research that does exist suggests that there are both ups and downs to being involved in an age-discrepant romance. In particular, such relationships are subject to social disapproval and stereotyping by society at large, especially in cases where the older partner is a woman. At the same time, however, age-gap partners are often more satisfied and committed to one another than partners who are more similar in age. Thus, it is clear that despite the potential downsides, many of these relationships do in fact stand the test of time. Future research on this topic is essential, however, to help fill the gaps in our knowledge and to better understand the paradoxical implications of involvement in an age-discrepant romance.

REFERENCES Banks, C. A., & Arnold, P. (2001). Opinions towards sexual partners with a large age difference. Marriage & Family Review, 33, 5–18. Baumeister, R. F., & Vohs, K. D. (2004). Sexual economics: Sex as female resource for social exchange in heterosexual interactions. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 8, 339–363. Berardo F., Appel, J., & Berardo, D. (1993). Age dissimilar marriages: Review and assessment. Journal of Aging Studies, 7, 93–106. Boyd, M., & Li, A. (2003). May-December: Canadians in age-discrepant relationships. Canadian Social Trends, 70, 29–33. Buss, D. M. (1989). Sex differences in human mate preferences: Evolutionary hypotheses tested in 37 cultures. Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 12, 1–49. Byrne, D., Clore, G. L., & Smeaton, G. (1986). The attraction hypothesis: Do similar attitudes affect anything? Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 51, 1167–1170. Cowan, G. (1984). The double standard in age-discrepant relationships. Sex Roles, 11, 17–23. Donaghue, N., & Fallon, B. J. (2003). Gender-role self-stereotyping and the relationship between equity and satisfaction in close relationships. Sex Roles, 48, 217–230. Eagly, A. H. (1987). Sex differences in social behavior: A social role interpretation. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Eagly, A. H., Eastwick, P. W., & Johannesen-Schmidt, M. (2009). Possible selves in marital roles: The impact of the anticipated division of labor on the mate preferences of women and men. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 35, 403–414. Eagly, A. H., & Wood, W. (1999). The origins of sex differences in human behavior: Evolved dispositions versus social roles. American Psychologist, 54, 408–423. Etcheverry, P. E., & Agnew, C. R. (2004). Subjective norms and the prediction of romantic relationship state and fate. Personal Relationships, 11, 409–428.

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Gold, E. B., Bromberg, J., Crawford, S., Samuels, S., Greendale, G. A., Harlow, S. D., et al. (2001). Factors associated with age at natural menopause in a multiethnic sample of midlife women. American Journal of Epidemiology, 153, 865–874. Goodfriend, W., & Agnew, C. R. (2008). Sunken costs and desired plans: Examining different types of investments in close relationships. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 34, 1639–1652. Groot, W., & Van Den Brink, H. M. (2002). Age and education differences in marriages and their effects on life satisfaction. Journal of Happiness Studies, 3, 153–165. Hayes, A. F. (1995). Age preferences for same- and opposite-sex partners. Journal of Social Psychology, 135, 125–133. Homans, G. C. (1961). Social behavior and its elementary forms. New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World. Kenrick, D. T., Gabrielidis, C., Keefe, R. C., & Cornelius, J. S. (1996). Adolescents’ age preferences for dating partners: Support for an evolutionary model of life-history strategies. Child Development, 67, 1499–1511. Kenrick, D. T., & Keefe, R. C. (1992). Age preferences in mates reflect sex differences in human reproductive strategies. Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 15, 75–133. Le, B., & Agnew, C. R. (2003). Commitment and its theorized determinants: A meta-analysis of the Investment Model. Personal Relationships, 10, 37–57. Lehmiller, J. J., & Agnew, C. R. (2006). Marginalized relationships: The impact of social disapproval on romantic relationship commitment. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 32, 40–51. Lehmiller, J. J., & Agnew, C. R. (2007). Perceived marginalization and the prediction of romantic relationship stability. Journal of Marriage and Family, 69, 1036–1049. Lehmiller, J. J., & Agnew, C. R. (2008). Commitment in age-gap heterosexual romantic relationships: A test of evolutionary and socio-cultural predictions. Psychology of Women Quarterly, 32, 74–82. Menken, J., & Larsen, U. (1986). Fertility rates and aging. In L. Mastroianni, Jr. & C. A. Paulsen (Eds.), Aging, reproduction, and the climacteric (pp. 147–165). New York: Plenum. Milhausen, R. R., & Herold, E. S. (1999). Does the sexual double standard still exist? Perceptions of university women. Journal of Sex Research, 36, 361–368. Newcomb, T. M. (1978). The attraction process: Looking mainly backward. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 36, 1075–1083. Ni Bhrolchain, M. (2006). The age difference between partners: A matter of female choice. In C. Sauvain-dugerdil & H. Leridon (Eds.), Human clocks: The bio-cultural meanings of age (pp. 289–312). New York: Peter Lang. Rusbult, C. E. (1980). Commitment and satisfaction in romantic associations: A test of the Investment Model. Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 16, 172–186. Rusbult, C. E. (1983). A longitudinal test of the Investment Model: The development (and deterioration) of satisfaction and commitment in heterosexual involvements. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 45, 101–117. Rusbult, C. E., & Martz, J. M. (1995). Remaining in an abusive relationship: An Investment Model analysis of nonvoluntary dependence. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 21, 558–571. Thibaut, J. W., & Kelley, H. H. (1959). The social psychology of groups. New York: Wiley. Turner, L. (2008). Rise of the gold-digger: The young women who shamelessly pursue older men for their money. Retrieved April 7, 2009 from www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article1026116/Rise-gold-digger-The-young-women-shamelessly-pursue-older-menmoney.html

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United Nations. (2000). World Marriage Patterns 2000. Retrieved April 17, 2009 from www.un.org/esa/population/publications/worldmarriage/ worldmarriage.htm U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. (2007). Women in the labor force: A databook. Retrieved July 2, 2009 from www.bls.gov/cps/wlf-databook2007.htm U.S. Census Bureau. (1999). America’s families and living arrangements. Retrieved April 8, 2009 from www.census.gov/population/www/socdemo/hh-fam/p20-537_ 99.html Voo, J. (2007). Older women and younger men: Can it work? Retrieved September 17, 2007 from www.cnn.com/2007/LIVING/personal/09/07/olderwomen/index. html Walster, E., Walster, G. W., & Berscheid, E. (1978). Equity: Theory and research. Boston: Allyn & Bacon. Winch, R. (1958). Mate selection: A study of complementary needs. New York: Harper and Row. Winn, K. I., Crawford, D. W., & Fischer, J. L. (1991). Equity and commitment in romance versus friendship. Journal of Social Behavior and Personality, 6, 301–314. Zak, A., Armer, E., Edmunds, K., Fleury, T., Sarris, M., & Shatynski, B. (2001). Agediscrepant relationships: Do these romances fare well? North American Journal of Psychology, 3, 119–122.

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Fairytales and Tragedies: Narratively Making Sense of the Dark Side (and the Dark Side of Making Sense) of Personal Relationships Jody Koenig Kellas, Erin K. Willer, and Haley Kranstuber

The fact of storytelling hints at a fundamental human unease, hints at human imperfection. Where there is perfection there is no story to tell. Ben Okri One thing I know, why we tell stories is the most important of all. That’s how you keep them people belonging. Always. Nullah, Australia

Human life is a set of stories and personal relationships are the main characters. We live out the plotlines of these stories creating, celebrating, contemplating, discussing, cursing, lamenting, despising, struggling over, under, and through a vast topography of different relationships. As the authors in the current (and previous) dark side volumes attest, personal relationships can be complex prisms reflecting the light and dark sides of human relating. Because we are essentially storytelling creatures (Bruner, 1990; Fisher, 1987)—homo narrans (Fisher) or naïve scientists (Heider, 1958)—we are compelled to make sense of our relationships by telling stories about them to ourselves, to our relational partners, to friends, to anyone who will listen as we communicate to give meaning to our experiences. One of the

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primary ways we do this is in everyday talk (Duck, 1994) and thus, telling our stories helps us manage our personal relationships. But making sense of our relationships can be a dark endeavor too. Telling stories of our dark, embarrassing relationship moments or relationship failures can render us incompetent, weak, undesirable, and/or self-centered in the eyes of others. Telling transgressive narratives can demonstrate that we have overstepped the boundaries of propriety and thus risk losing face (Norrick, 2005). Telling stories of the bright side of relationships (e.g., falling in love, often-told family legacies) can be dark as well. Family stories can subvert individual identities (Stone, 1988) or proffer undesired family meanings, opening up members or the family itself for legitimation and critique (Langellier & Peterson, 1993). Furthermore, listeners may reject the meanings we have made for our relationships or try to project their own meanings onto our stories. Relational members may disagree on the meaning of relationship stories and therefore threaten the reality of the union that partners have created. Others may not want to listen to our stories or may question their truth. As we will discuss throughout this chapter, telling relational stories can be a risky endeavor. Despite its potentially dark side, research on narrative tends to enjoy a status associated with the bright side, including processes and outcomes such as coping, gaining control, increasing self-esteem, making meaning, sensemaking, well-being, understanding, and celebration of individual and relational identities. It has been argued, however, that narrative scholarship risks operating under a positivity bias, having neglected the shadowy sides of communicated sense-making (Koenig Kellas, 2008). Thus, the purpose of the current chapter is to explore both the dark and light sides of narratively making sense of close personal relationships. We begin by situating the concept of making sense of relationships in a larger theoretical context, examining both the overarching benefits of narrative sense-making, as well as touching upon the potentially problematic assumptions that underlie these processes. We then review literature on the benefits and risks of making sense of relationships across the relationship life cycle. Stories permeate relationships, helping us to make sense of them at each stage. Thus, we discuss relational and family stories as they help individuals make sense of relational beginnings, maintenance, dissolution, and beyond. Once we have explored storytelling across the life cycle and interrogated the oftenneglected darker sides of this process, we conclude the chapter by illustrating the bright sides of applying narrative sense-making to the dark side of close relationships. In this way, we hope that the current chapter advances agendas for future scholarship and theorizing, as well as offers theoretically applied strategies for coping with relational difficulties.

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THE NARRATIVE PANACEA: SITUATING NARRATIVE SENSE-MAKING IN A THEORETICAL CONTEXT Most of the existing research and theorizing position narratives and stories as everyday and extraordinary tools that serve as productive forms of meaningmaking, understanding, identity formation, relationship celebration, and coping. A story is a communicative construction through which people recount events by assigning plot, character, and setting in a way that helps them communicate noteworthy events to others and make sense for themselves. Storytelling is the communicative manifestation of stories. Although several terms and definitions are used to describe the sense-making processes we describe in this chapter (see Koenig Kellas, 2008), we use the terms narratives, stories, and accounts interchangeably. The benefits of narrative sense-making have been lauded for the last several decades, as narrative approaches to understanding personal relationships burgeoned in the early 1990s and beyond (Bochner, Ellis, & Tillmann-Healy, 1997). Moreover, the power of narrative persists across disciplinary and paradigmatic boundaries. Although an exhaustive review of narrative scholarship is beyond the scope of the current chapter, the bright side of narrative sense-making as it pertains to personal relationships might be grouped into three primary sets of benefits: Sense-making, identity construction, and coping. Despite these overarching benefits, however, little scholarly attention has been paid to the dark side of narrative sense-making. But, as with all potentially dark side, interpersonal concepts, making sense of relationships through stories can be paradoxical, dialectical, and functionally ambivalent (Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007), meaning the functions of narrative typically considered positive may be dispreferred and there may also be dark sides to narrative sense-making. The following highlights some of the bright as well as the potentially dark sides of making sense, constructing identities, and coping with difficulty by telling relational stories.

Narrative Sense-making Making sense of relationships and assigning meaning to our experiences is the hallmark of stories. For example, many narrative psychologists examine narratives as a mode of thinking (e.g., Bruner, 1990; McAdams, 1993). Bruner (1990) suggests that humans think and process information, at least in part, through narrative mechanisms such as characters, plot, and meaning. Much psychological research on narrative thus investigates the benefits of cognitively making sense of life through stories. For example, McAdams and his colleagues (e.g., McAdams, 1993; McAdams, Diamond, de St. Aubin, & Mansfield, 1997) examine how individuals’ life stories, or personal myths,

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reflect themes that either help them function and overcome adversity or that prohibit productive identities and contribute to psychological distress. These acts of meaning (Bruner, 1990) appear to have substantial consequences for our individual, psychological well-being. In addition to the psychological benefits of narrative sense-making, stories are also the frames through which we make our meanings and relationships intelligible to others (Bochner, 2002; Gergen & Gergen, 1987). In other words, “by framing our experiences in the form of stories, we are investigating what they mean to us, and we make what we understand about our experiences accessible to others by telling them our stories” (Bochner et al., 1997, p. 16). One of the ways in which storied meanings are evaluated socially is by the criterion of coherence. We strive to make our stories coherent and this sense of coherence across the life cycle is, in part, what indicates whether or not we have a good story and have succeeded in making sense of our experiences in the context of our larger life histories (Cohler, 1991; Labov, 1999). Labov and Waletsky (1967), for example, suggest that a well-formed narrative includes an abstract, orientation, complicating actions, resolution, evaluation, and coda; “good” narratives evaluate the point and establish a “so what” (Labov, 1999). Such evaluation provides evidence that the teller is actively making sense of how the events of the story fit into the grander cultural moral scheme of social life. Narrative sense-making and coherence are universal expectations, culturally constructed and evaluated (Cohler, 1991; Gergen & Gergen, 1987). Although sense-making is a key feature and goal of narrating lived events, making sense of life and personal relationships is not always easy. This may be particularly true for complex, dark, and/or particularly traumatic interpersonal events. Yet individuals may be limited by their linguistic and language skills (Burnett, 1991). Narrative sense-making presumes a certain degree of communication competence and cognitive complexity. Like competent communicators, competent storytellers are not only skillful in storytelling, but also are able to do so at times that are best suited to particular situations and are motivated to tell appropriately for the sake of their audiences (Spitzberg & Cupach, 1984). Although these proficiencies (skill, knowledge, and motivation) typically fall under the realm of communication competence (Spitzberg & Cupach, 1984), they also define, in part, what it means to be a competent storyteller. Moreover, sense-making proficiency also seems to involve the ability to comprehend other and self stories, listen and respond effectively to others’ stories, as well as the ability to solicit stories from others. Although Fisher (1987) contends that narrative rationality is accessible to all people, those with higher levels of communication and sense-making competence are also more likely to be able to formulate coherent, and therefore beneficial, stories. Future research is needed on how certain communication skills play into the benefits (and/or risks) of narrative sense-making.

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In addition to skills, one’s ability to make sense of and/or form a coherent narrative might also be an artifact of one’s role in a given relational problem. For example, as a result of their analysis of breakup narratives, Koenig Kellas and Manusov (2003) postulated that narrative completeness might be particularly problematic, and therefore more important to and/or difficult for individuals who felt especially hurt by the breakup or invested in the relationship that was terminated as opposed to those who adapted to the breakup easily. Those unable to form coherent narratives may be at greater risk of confusion and distress. Ultimately, incomplete and/or incoherent sense-making has negative consequences. In the mainstream, failing to tell a coherent story violates socially developed norms for narrating lived events such that “We cannot, without danger of becoming unintelligible, tell stories that break the rules of storytelling. To go beyond the rules is to engage in tales told by idiots” (Gergen & Gergen, 1987, p. 270). Research further suggests that incoherence might prevent us from engaging in satisfying life events (Gergen & Gergen, 1987), enjoying higher levels of adjustment to difficulty (e.g., Koenig Kellas & Manusov, 2003; Weiss, 1975), and experiencing family satisfaction and functioning (Trees & Koenig Kellas, 2009). When viewed from a dark side lens, narrative sense-making is beneficial, except when coherence and understanding are complicated or thwarted.

Constructing Individual and Relational Identities Also central to the notion of creating and maintaining a coherent story is the importance of the narrative construction of identity. Many researchers concentrate on the ways in which our selves are narrative in nature (e.g., Bruner, 1990) and how our life stories contribute to or detract from the functionality and resiliency of those identities (e.g., McAdams, 1993). Thus, the stories a person gathers and tells about herself offers evaluations about who she is and how she sees herself as an individual (Linde, 1993). Because stories are dynamic (Bochner, 2002), and we have the cognitive and communicative ability to reframe our stories (McAdams, 1993), stories enable a sense of self-renewal, allowing us to remake ourselves over time (Bochner et al., 1997). Relational identity is narrative in nature as well. In their discussion of unification myths, for example, Gergen and Gergen (1987) suggest that stories about the relationship confirm its reality, and argue that the more stories we have, the more we can claim a relationship exists. Ultimately, we create the realities and cultures of relationships by the stories we tell about them. Thus, individuals and relationships can be thought of as a collection of stories imbued with meaning and sense.

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Although stories help us to construct individual and relational identities, they can also constrain relationships or be constrained by larger relational scripts. Relational stories can constrain relationships, particularly since they are shared constructions (Bochner et al., 1997; Koenig Kellas, 2005) and divergences in the meaning of relational stories might threaten relational identity. Moreover, how we construct individual and relational identity stories can be constrained by the fact that these identities are situated within larger societal narratives that prescribe behavior and self-evaluation. Also known as canonical stories (Bochner et al., 1997), master narratives are “stories drawn from the cultural store, that circulate widely within a society and embody its shared understanding” (Nelson, 2001, p. 152). Master narratives help regulate the way things are supposed to be. Thus, relationship stories might not be fully unique or individualized. Rather, they might be scripted by culturally held beliefs and filtered through various mediated sources (Bochner et al., 1997). For example, Ribarsky (2009) found that groups of women who gathered to ritualistically watch the reality romantic fairytale genre television show, The Bachelor, consistently reinforced dating master narratives about being a princess and marrying a prince. In response to master narratives, non-traditional families must formulate their family stories in light of cultural norms (Tillmann-Healy, 2001). The master narrative of a monolithic family perpetuates the notion of a nuclear, ahistorical, privatized, male-headed family (Langellier & Peterson, 1993). Thus, gay and lesbian families, stepfamilies, interracial marriages, singleparent families, adoptive families, and those who choose not to have children may feel the need to legitimize their family forms (Durham, 2008; Krusiewicz & Wood, 2001; Rosenwald & Ochberg, 1992). Jones (2003) asserts that the privileged status of the traditional family functions to restrict our thinking about the varying structures and ways of “doing family” (see Chapter 10, this volume). In fact, “the promotion of the nuclear family as the benchmark for family life perpetuates stepfamily invisibility and bias that permeate both stepfamily policy and practice” (Jones, 2003, p. 228). Children’s literature is wrought with the portrayal of the evil stepmother and reflects the assumption that “step is less” (Wald, 1981). Thus, stepfamilies may socially learn to subscribe to the “Cinderella complex,” viewing their family form as inferior within the dominant culture. Although potentially oppressive, master narratives are often necessary (Nelson, 2001). Master narratives are powerful because, like family stories, we encounter them from an early age when “we are as blank and unresisting as we’re ever going to be” (Stone, 2004, p. 10). Canonical narratives can backfire by promoting an idyllic portrait of relational life (e.g., the 1950s nuclear family) that disappoints relational members in the face of such an unattainable reality (Jorgensen & Bochner, 2004). Fortunately, master narratives are not insurmountable. We can develop counter-stories that

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refuse, repudiate, and contest master narratives (Nelson, 2001). Additional research is needed that explores the narrative construction of identity in relationships that may be marginalized by master narratives.

Narratively Coping with Difficulty Finally, the benefits of narrative sense-making are clearly implicated in the coping facilitated by telling stories about the dark side of life and personal relationships. Research on individual and family stories abounds with a focus on the ways in which stories illustrate and help people come to terms with adversity. The ability to reframe difficulty in a positive manner suggests psychological resilience (Cohler, 1991; McAdams, 1993) and tends to result in positive psychological benefits. Pennebaker’s program of research on the longitudinal effects of expressive writing convincingly suggests that writing or telling stories of trauma has both mental and physical health benefits in contrast with ruminating about troubles (Pennebaker, 1997). In a similar vein, narrative therapists believe that narrative approaches give individuals the opportunity to restory unproductive individual and family plotlines into a preferable story and therefore cope more productively in the world (White, 2007). Telling stories of difficult situations helps people understand what happened, gain control over the events, and achieve a sense of catharsis that represents a formidable coping resource (Weber, Harvey, & Stanley, 1987). One of the primary benefits of narrating relationships is the ability to cope with their dark and shadowy sides. Although narratives are instrumental in coping with difficulty, as will be discussed throughout the chapter, they are not always cathartic. For instance, expressive writing has resulted in increased depression and anxiety for adolescents (Fivush, Marin, & Crawford, 2007). Plus, Koenig Kellas, Trees, Schrodt, LeClair-Underberg, and Willer (in press) found that husbands may experience more benefits of narrative sense-making than wives in jointly told stories of marital difficulty. Moreover, we are often unable, without professional help, to “restory” our own unproductive or negative life stories, and the costs of therapeutic interventions may be prohibitive. More narrative interventions need to be accessible to lay audiences, particularly if, as Fisher (1987) argues, narrative rationality is the rationality not restricted to experts, but available to all persons.

MAKING SENSE ACROSS THE RELATIONSHIP LIFE CYCLE Making sense of relationships becomes concrete when we think of it in terms of telling stories about various relational events, stages, turning points, and

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problems. People tend to celebrate stories of relational beginnings, family triumphs, funny and charming milestones, and significant positive turning points. At the same time, people tell stories as they grapple with the complexities of relational maintenance, discord, transgressions, and relational endings. In their work on narratives of relationships, Gergen and Gergen (1987) suggest that relationship stories tend to take one of two forms: Progressive narratives with a positive or valued goal state or regressive narratives that move toward a negative goal state. We tend to cycle through these progressive and regressive narratives as we develop, maintain, and dissolve our personal relationships, and the communion we seek in narrative cycles is often disrupted and wrought with complication. Yet, as storytelling creatures we long for the dynamism of triumphs and tribulations. Thus, the following section chronicles the bright and dark sides of our propensity to make sense of personal relationships across the life cycle of those relationships.

Once Upon a Time . . . Relationship Origin Stories It was the greatest love story ever written. I mean, ah, I adored him and he adored me and we had two beautiful children and a very good family life. Mrs. Blum (as quoted in Silberstein, 1988, p. 130)

The story of a couple’s “coming together” is one of great significance in their relationship. It marks the end of one era and the beginning of another. Sternberg (1995) asserts that, in getting to know someone, we imagine that “we replace a ‘fiction’ with the ‘reality’ of non-fiction” (p. 541). The meaningmaking that occurs at the genesis of a relationship is particularly influential and indicative of that occurring in the rest of the relationship. The stories of relational beginnings affect and reflect the couple’s meaning-making regarding their relationship, and thus we can use them to better understand the coconstruction of meaning occurring within the relationship. Romantic couples frequently engage in storytelling as a way to remember the past and to make the relationship “socially alive” to both the dyad and its social networks (Baxter & Pittman, 2001, p. 14). This social function validates the couple and reinforces parts of their story. At the same time that courtship stories function to validate the couple’s identity, components of the stories are also associated with relational wellbeing. Relational partners benefit from recounting their courtship story during times of stress, as it reminds them of what brought them together and, in so doing, reaffirms their love for each other (Ponzetti, 2005). Notably, a couple’s marriage story can be used to predict marital stability and the likelihood of divorce versus marital satisfaction (Buehlman, Gottman, & Katz, 1992; Veroff, Sutherland, Chadiha, & Ortega, 1993). Buehlman et al. (1992),

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for example, were able to predict divorce based on the couple’s perceived marital bond, as communicated through their relationship narrative. Couples with a strong perception of unity and a belief that their hard times made their relationship stronger were more likely to have stable marriages three years later than couples who communicated separateness and/or a chaotic beginning. Married couples were more likely to report marital happiness when they focused on themselves as a unit as opposed to individuals within a relationship, portrayed their relationship as positively accelerating, and used more relational affect statements (i.e., “we were very much in love”) (Veroff et al., 1993). These findings beg the question, then, does a couple’s well-being affect their representations of the past, or do couples with happier pasts just report their experiences as such? Veroff et al. hypothesized that the results are a combination of both. The research consistently indicates that the reconstruction of the past is a significant indicator of the couple’s affect toward the events. Although courtship stories are typically conceptualized as romantic, cute, or loving remembrances, the dark side also prevails in courtship narratives. For example, Veroff et al. (1993) found that when black couples emphasized the theme of finance and/or children, husbands reported higher rates of marital unhappiness three years later. The researchers hypothesized that finances and children coincide with one another in that black husbands feel pressure to provide for their family and pass on financial benefits to their children. Likewise, newlywed wives who represented their courtship story negatively rated their husbands’ anger, humor, and affection more negatively than did wives who represented their past more positively (Hawkins, Carrère, & Gottman, 2002). Individuals who convey a dark version of the past appear to be affected by their narratives in the present and future. Conversely, those individuals who perceived more positive change in satisfaction in the recent past were more confident in the future of their relationship than those who viewed the trajectory of their relationship as stable or downward (Karney & Frye, 2002). Those who recognized positive change were able to reframe their experiences and see them in an optimistic light, even in the face of dark circumstances. This resonates with Murray, Holmes, and Griffin (1996) who found that couples who idealized one another not only reported greater increases in satisfaction and decreases in doubt throughout the course of their relationship, but also built positive self-fulfilling prophesies for the individuals and the relationship (see also Murray & Holmes, 1997).

Family Beginnings and Development Stories The logical progression of the cultural narrative is the transition from marriage to forming a family, and much research examines the origin and

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identity stories families tell as well. A basic family narrative is one that recounts events and, in so doing, families attach, construct, coordinate, interpret, and solidify meaning to their experiences (Jorgenson & Bochner, 2004; Koenig Kellas, 2005). Stone (1988) calls family stories the “cornerstone of family culture” (p. 17). Family stories are influenced by both the cultural expectations of family and family narratives and by the lessons of previous generations.

Cultural Expectations. Family stories are shaped by the context and resources of a culture, by master narratives (McAdams, 2001; Sternberg, 1995). McAdams (1998) states, “all life stories are formulated with both external and internalized audiences in mind” (p. 114), thus we may censor our stories and their content to create stories that uphold the ideal. The types of ideal and culturally favored stories may position women in the home rather than in society at large, favor families with biological children, and promote a negative view of certain family structures. As mentioned above, master narratives serve to regulate family forms, interactions, and sense-making. In so doing they may subvert non-traditional versions of family such as stepfamilies, interracial families, single-parent families, adoptive families, and families who choose not to have children. Sex stereotypes are consistently upheld both in intergenerational stories and in parents’ stories to children. For example, in intergenerational stories, men were seen as instrumental in changing social issues in society at large, whereas women are more likely to be seen in family contexts (Martin, Hagestad, & Diedrick, 1988). Heroes were positioned in work settings and heroines in family settings. This gender-specific depiction of women may be surprising, given that women are often those responsible for “carrying” and passing on the family stories (Stone, 1988), yet gender differences in family storytelling have been reported in studies of both mothers and fathers. In mothers’ birth narratives to their daughters, they emphasize interpersonal and family relationships, whereas they emphasize instrumental tasks and accomplishments to their sons (Reese, 1996). When parents talk to their children about their childhood, fathers tell stories with stronger achievement themes, whereas mothers tell stories with stronger affiliation themes, focusing on the needs of others, belonging, and being close with others (Fiese, Hooker, Kotary, Schwagler, & Rimmer, 1995). Because family storytelling is so vital in aiding children in the construction of meaning of the social world, these parental stories mold children’s views on gender and social expectations. Additional research is needed on the ways in which cultural scripts affect and reflect family stories, identities, understanding, and well-being. Parenting stories and family origin stories honor the family while promoting the cultural value of unity. The birth story is fundamental in the

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family’s narrative repertoire (Stone, 1988). A child’s birth story defines who the child is, explains the process by which he/she was born, and establishes where the child fits into and enhances the family (Krusiewicz & Wood, 2001). However, these traditional family stories also ignore or stigmatize those families whose stories do not contain biological children. Adoptive families (and other non-traditional families) may go to great lengths to explain, justify, excuse, or legitimize their family form (Krusiewicz & Wood, 2001; Suter, 2008). Some adoptive parents report they even censor or silence themselves because they are seen as “second rate” or not “real” parents (Miall, 1987). Moreover, most of the adoption narrative research has focused on the adoptive parents’ experiences as representations of the whole family. Yet limited research on storytelling in adoptive families has shown that adoptees and adoptive parents highlight different parts of adoptees’ birth narratives. For example, adoptive parents tend to legitimize their family form through their child’s birth narrative (Krusiewicz & Wood, 2001), whereas adopted individuals focus less on the legitimacy of family and more on how adoption affects individual identity (Kranstuber & Koenig Kellas, in press). Further research should examine the role of narrative for the adopted child and how storytelling frames help to shape the adopted child’s identity as well as the family’s identity.

Narrative Inheritance. Although family narratives are subject to cultural influences, they are also molded by past family stories passed down through generations. These intergenerational stories serve to keep the family legacy alive and maintain a sense of cohesiveness among the generations (McAdams, 1993; Stone, 1988). Families can recall moments of accomplishment or resilience, such as grandma’s strength during the Great Depression (Martin et al., 1988). Even dark family secrets can function to strengthen family ties and identities (Goodall, 2005). For example, in his autoethnographic work on narrative inheritance, Goodall describes the ways in which, following his father’s death, he grapples with the discovery of his father’s secret career in the CIA. When he learned of this narratively-constructed “double life,” he was initially alienated and hurt, but ultimately came to understand these family secrets as uniting his family in their struggles and secrecy. There are family stories, however, that we are ‘supposed’ to tell and those we are not (Sternberg, 1995). Stone (1988) asserts that “behavior that threatens family stability or continuity—sexuality that gets out of hand or illegitimacy that brings an unknown bloodline into the family—has to be censured” (p. 50). Family stories that are told in fact emphasize strange and unusual situations, but the characters are always cast in a favorable light. Dark acts and certain people are hidden or forgotten as families pass narratives through the generations. Stories that chronicle the origins of couples and

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families are useful, necessary, relational foundations. Yet, research shows that the content and processes of telling these stories may also reveal relational fractures and societal constraints. Thus, storied beginnings are ripe for research on the bright and dark sides of relational identity and well-being.

The Plot Thickens . . . Maintaining Relationships Narratively Estelle: That night, the surgeon, they were taking him upstairs. He was on the gurney. I was standing beside his head and I said, “Did the doctor tell you what they found?” I can’t remember if he said “no” or “I think so,” and he said “they found a growth.” And I said, “No, it was a tumor. It was cancer.” And that’s the first it really registered with him that it was cancer. And I got up to the room and I still remember this because it was late at night, he called all the kids and he called his brothers and he was crying. And he knew, they had told him it was because he was a smoker. Bladder cancer is often associated with people being smokers. And he had me throw his pack of cigarettes in the wastebasket and that was the last time he smoked. And when he talked to all the kids—he knew that some of the kids were smokers—and he urged them to quit smoking and [he was] crying and everything. And after that we were just sitting there talking—and I stayed with him all night long—and some time during the course of the night he said “If I don’t make it, this is what I want you to do” and he was talking about giving different things to different people and it really blew me away because I wasn’t ready to deal with that. Roger: Actually, though, before that first surgery, we had just built a house in [City, USA], which was going to be our retirement home, and she, I was leaning against the counter by the sink with my back to it and she come up to there and put her face right in mine and she said “Damnit, we didn’t build this house for me to live in alone!” Estelle: But anyway . . . it was quite an experience . . . It was tough, the whole process was tough. Not just that one night, but the whole process. While it’s still not fun to think about, it’s still doable. We’ve really come a long way. [Grabs his arm, shakes it affectionately, and laughs] We’re still here! Roger: [Smiles]. A couple married 52 years telling a story of marital stress (Koenig Kellas et al., in press)

Although much research has focused on stories of relationship development and dissolution, couples, friends, and family members also tell stories over the course of their relationships as they engage in the many other processes associated with relational maintenance. Despite Gergen and Gergen’s (1987) focus on the patterned and dramatic nature of progressive and regressive narratives in the development and dissolution of romantic relationships, stories also abound for several other reasons over the life course of personal relationships.

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Motivations and Functions Most obviously, stories are told for entertainment. Good stories have a point, a “so what” (Labov, 1999), and many people tell stories in the context of personal relationships to facilitate humor, entertain, or captivate the audience. Beyond this function, however, stories are also told to remember. Baxter and Pittman (2001) found, for example, that the two most common types of dyadic traditions engaged by partners in remembering relational turning points were reminiscing and storytelling to third parties. Couples most often reminisced about quality times, perhaps to recapture the feelings associated with a private and valued relational time or to facilitate new quality time (Baxter & Pittman, 2001). Couples also collaboratively told stories about relational turning points to third parties, presumably in ways that helped to constitute, or bring to life, the relationship for others (see also Duck, 1994). We may also reconstruct or recast the past in ways that accentuates the positive and downplays tougher times of the past serves to reinforce the current positive relational identity. Thus, relational stories are told to remember, but in line with narrative theorizing generally (Koenig Kellas, 2008), they are also told to make sense of, and construct, relationships and relational identity. Family stories are also told over the course of time to remember, as well as teach, lessons and establish identity. In her foundational work on family stories, Stone (1988) suggests that family stories told across generations help families define themselves, establish ground rules for interaction within and outside the family, and celebrate as well as perpetuate the ideals associated with certain family monuments (e.g., heterosexual marriage in courtship stories). Thus, one of the primary purposes of family storytelling is socialization of members. Family stories are told at different points across the life cycle in order to teach different, age-appropriate lessons (Stone, 1988). For example, in childhood, parents may tell stories to increase child self-esteem and this collaborative storytelling, in turn, teaches children how to become competent storytellers themselves (Pratt & Fiese, 2004). In adolescence, telling stories of parents’ transgressive or illicit behavior, such as smoking marijuana, may enhance parent–child trust by signaling a transition in the power structure of the relationship (Thorne, McLean, & Dasbach, 2004). Finally, and not surprisingly, we also tell stories within and outside relationships in order to make sense of our lived experiences. According to Planalp and Surra (1992), inconsistencies in precipitating relational events and beliefs about the relationship prompt a need for interpretation of those events. Account-making can, in turn, change relational schemas if, upon interpretation, the events are considered to be significant and inconsistent. These interpretations can also help us cope with difficulty in close relationships and help us to strengthen relationships with others. Accounts,

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narratives, and storytelling affect and reflect relational quality, as will be discussed further in the following section.

Relational Climate Stories and storytelling not only help us to interpret our relationships, they also shape and are shaped by our relational cultures or climates, including the quality and functioning of the relationship. As the communicative manifestation of narrative, storytelling deserves more research in the investigation of relational culture and functioning. Thus far, research on storytelling suggests that families and relational partners engage in collaborative or joint storytelling (e.g., Koenig Kellas & Trees, 2006; Langellier & Peterson, 2004; Mandelbaum, 1987, 1989) for many of the functions described above as well as the promise of involvement (Norrick, 1997). The characteristics of this process provide interactive glimpses into the ways in which we enact and make sense of our relationships. Conversation analysts and others, for example, have explored the ways in which storytelling allows people to “do” relationships. Mandelbaum (1987) examined how couples managed telling shared stories, such as inviting verifications and engaging in complementary telling, in a way that allowed them to perform their relationships in public. Langellier and Peterson (2004) have argued for their narrative performance theory, which positions family storytelling as both performance (i.e., the act of telling a story) and performative (i.e., representative of the family). These lines of research aptly suggest that stories are not simply artifacts of relationships; rather, relationships are performed through storytelling. Research on the analysis of storytelling interactions from a primarily quantitative, empirical approach has also examined the ways in which storytelling processes facilitate sense-making and provide information about relational identity. For example, Koenig Kellas (2005) found that families who jointly told stories about accomplishment and family appreciation (e.g., how we pulled together and worked to get the boat back to shore in the midst of a terrible storm) also reported significantly higher levels of family satisfaction, cohesion, and overall functioning than did families who jointly told stories of stress (e.g., how we crashed the boat and never boated again). This study also found that families who reported they told stories often as a family, took each other’s perspectives into account during storytelling, and balanced between individual and family identity statements were more satisfied and functional than families who scored low on these dimensions. The implications of this and similar studies are both light and dark. For example, families who tell stories, listen to and confirm one another, appreciate the family in the story theme (see also Vangelisti, Crumley, &

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Baker, 1999), and discursively balance identities tend to be happier with the family. Thus, we can begin to develop suggestions about encouraging family storytelling that is equitable, empathic, and a regular part of family life. However, what about families who do not tell stories, who do not know how to take each other’s perspectives into account or who cannot think of stories to tell that are not stressful in nature? These families seemed to suffer from lower levels of functionality and should be addressed further in research on the practical applications of storytelling findings. Storytelling also helps relational members cope with difficulty during the course of their relationships. In other words, storytelling can help cope with the dark side of personal relationships. Based on theorizing that storytelling facilitates sense-making and well-being, Koenig Kellas, Trees, and their colleagues conducted a series of studies examining how storytelling behaviors relate to individual and relational well-being. Koenig Kellas and Trees (2005, 2006) first identified a set of interactional sense-making (ISM) behaviors that distinguished families on the ways in which they made sense of difficult family experiences, including engagement, perspective-taking, turn-taking, and coherence. Families who were engaged, took each others’ perspectives into account, were dynamic and balanced in their turn-taking, and jointly constructed a coherent narrative, also came together to make sense of the difficulty as a family unit. Families who did not engage in these behaviors did not draw conclusions or make sense of the difficulty as a family or as individuals. Further study of ISM behaviors indicates that families high in perspective-taking were more satisfied and functional (Koenig Kellas, 2005), reported higher levels of family cohesion, and also reported greater perceptions of family supportiveness (Trees & Koenig Kellas, 2009). The coherence of the jointly told difficult family stories also predicted higher levels of family adaptability and perceptions of supportiveness (Trees & Koenig Kellas, 2009). Finally, in a study on collaborative marital storytelling (Koenig Kellas et al., in press), findings indicate that ISM behaviors only predicted husbands’ but not wives’ perceptions of mental health and perceived stress. Husbands’ own engagement in the telling and the degree to which they took their wives’ perspectives into account positively predicted their own mental health, as did the couples’ ability to balance turn-taking and construct a joint and coherent story. Interestingly, when wives took their husbands’ perspectives into account, husbands reported lower levels of perceived stress, yet none of the ISM behaviors predicted wives’ mental health or perceived stress. This series of studies suggests that relational members tell stories and that the processes of these storytelling interactions may have important implications for coping with relational difficulty and understanding relational culture, climate, and functioning. The results seem to suggest that perspective-taking and coherence are consistently important behaviors in

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understanding individual and relational health. Further research on the behavioral aspects of communicated perspective-taking will help to distinguish satisfied and dissatisfied married couples and aid in developing intervention strategies or training modules to help improve communication in these couples. Focusing on the storytelling behaviors that predict dissatisfaction and lower levels of health is a step in the direction of exploring the dark side of storytelling, but more research is needed on how storytelling can subvert or damage close relationships. For example, although ISM behaviors facilitate sense-making, Koenig Kellas and Trees’ (2006) findings suggest that several of the families made little to no sense of family difficulty. Because making sense of difficulty is at least marginally tied to mental health (Frattaroli, 2006; Pennebaker, 1997), this finding is troublesome. Many families who are not socialized to storytelling practices may lack the skills to actively facilitate and benefit from narrative sense-making. Moreover, husbands may have less of an opportunity to tell stories of difficulty given that women are more likely to have and take advantage of such opportunities (Smyth, 1998), putting husbands at a sense-making disadvantage (Koenig Kellas et al., in press). Although storytelling is a takenfor-granted (Hopper, 1981) communicative process, training on narrative sense-making in families, pre-marital counseling, and parental training classes may be warranted.

The Dark Side of Storytelling

Tellability. Telling stories, in general, is not always easy. Norrick (2005) addresses the “dark side of tellability” by discussing the paradox inherent in managing between the lower-bounding side of tellability (i.e., in order to be told, a story must be interesting, noteworthy, and/or humorous) and the upper-bounding side (i.e., stories may be so embarrassing, scary, personal, or inappropriate that they cannot be told without risking impropriety). Thus, when we are faced with telling transgressive or dark side narratives we are also faced with tensions between politeness/coherence and authenticity, as well as tensions between face loss and the possibility of increased intimacy (Norrick, 2005). Norrick’s analysis of conversational data suggests that when telling transgressive narratives, many people communicatively “conspire to negotiate the boundary toward increased impropriety in pursuit of intimacy” (p. 338). In other words, people opt to tell transgressive narratives in the face of risk with the hopes of increasing closeness. Koenig (2001) found that a series of self-deprecating stories told over email between two female friends served the function of strengthening the friendship. Despite these findings, we do not subscribe to the ideology of intimacy (Parks, 1982), or the idea that storytelling always increases relational closeness. Indeed, most of Koenig

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Kellas and Norrick’s examples involve mild stories of dark humor and embarrassment. More research is needed on the (non)tellability of “darker” relational stories such as abuse, obsessive relational intrusion (ORI), humiliation, infidelity, deception, betrayal, and so forth, that often go untold because of the upper-bounding issue Norrick addresses. Further research is also needed on the complications of tellability associated with technology, such as blogging, that may encourage sharing private stories in an online “public” forum with less regard for the potentially face-threatening consequences of doing so.

Narrative Truth. For better or for worse, people tell stories in order to maintain relationships and foster relational identities. Most narrative scholars do not concern themselves with the notion of whether or not stories accurately represent reality because, as sense-making devices, the interpretation of the story matters more than its accurate chronicling of events (e.g., Bochner, 2002; Bochner et al., 1997; Gergen & Gergen, 1987). Narrative truth thus becomes pragmatic truth (Bochner, 2002), important only insomuch as it reveals the reality and meaning for the teller. Yet narrative fidelity might become important and/or problematic when considered relationally. If relational partners disagree on the details of a story, such as the courtship story or story of who is to blame for a noteworthy conflict, individual perspectives as well as relational identities might be threatened as a result. As such, story discrepancies might contribute to interpersonal conflict and distress. Weber et al. (1987) postulate that: It may be that the degree of discrepancy between accounts at all stages of a relationship is some sort of index about the quality and real intimacy of a relationship . . . It is not so important that the account be an accurate reflection of reality, but rather that one’s own account be confirmed or validated by another individual, most especially by the partner in the relationship. (p. 121)

Thus, narrative fidelity becomes centrally important when viewed through the lens of marital interaction, relational identity, and joint meaning, and thus deserves additional research attention when exploring the dark side of relational maintenance narratives and storytelling. Moreover, the blurring between narrative and pragmatic truth might become particularly important in relationships clouded by darkness. For example, in abusive relationships both abusers and the abused might downplay the abuse, a case in which narrative “truth” (or lack thereof) may perpetuate or result in troubling consequences. In addition, the notion of pragmatic truth becomes problematic with the advent of new technologies, such as Facebook, MySpace, and Twitter, whereby one relational party’s version of events, such as conflict in

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a relationship, may be very different (and potentially damaging) from the other party’s version. Ultimately, the concept of storytelling in ongoing relationships is central to their maintenance and these collaborative processes of sense-making are ripe for additional research.

“The End?” Stories of Relationship Dissolution and Beyond My boyfriend and I knew each other for five years, we dated for two. He took care of me, we lived together, he drove me around, and treated me like a baby. He took me to his family in [Country A], and at one time I thought we were going to get married. The problem was he worked for a [Country B] company, his family lived in [Country B] and he owed this company because they paid for his scholarship and living expenses; he had to return home. He left me and I was in our apartment by myself—all our furniture was in storage. I did not know where I was going or what I was going to do. I could not afford the apartment by myself, and I did not really have any friends because I was so exclusive to my boyfriend. I wanted to die in this apartment because I had never been so happy in my life, or so safe, and secure. I knew when I left that apartment things would never be the same again. And they weren’t. Eventually, we met in [International City]. He flew me there to see him. And he loaned me a lot of money to get back on my feet. At times I think he really loves me, and other times I think maybe he would treat anyone like he treated me and I was not so special. I heard from him the other day he has a [girlfriend]. They aren’t as serious as we were. He always tells me whatever I want or if I need help he will do that for me. Unfortunately, I have a hard time getting over him because, to me, he was the nicest most considerate guy in the world. No other man even compares to him, and I don’t think I am exaggerating. A 22-year-old woman describing her breakup story (Koenig, 1999)

Thus far, we have discussed at length both the bright and potentially dark sides of narrative sense-making, suggesting that despite their positive functions, additional research is needed on the subversive and risky nature of these communicative sense-making devices. Yet, the lion’s share of research on narratives of personal relationships points to their benefits, particularly when dealing with difficulty. Thus, in the current section and for the remainder of the chapter, we turn to research on the ways in which telling stories or accounting for relationship loss and difficulty function to help us cope with relational pitfalls. First, we discuss the functions of telling stories of relationship dissolution and loss as well as post-dissolutional relationships. We then conclude the chapter with a focus on the applied ways in which people can narratively cope with the dark side of personal relationships.

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Stories of Relationship Dissolution and Loss Presumably, and as illustrated in the breakup story above, relationship dissolution may be considered one of the darker experiences for members of close relationships. Weber (1998), for example, provides a thorough description of the motivations, processes, models, and consequences of nonmarital relationship dissolution. We expand on her treatment of accounts of relational breakup here by reviewing the functions, processes, benefits, and possible drawbacks of stories of relationship dissolution. A substantial body of the research on breakup stories derives from Harvey and colleagues’ (e.g., Harvey & Fine, 2006; Weber et al., 1987) research on accounts for failed relationships and relationship loss. Weber et al. explain that “An account is like a story that contains a rich array of plots, characters, and patterns of interaction” (p. 114). Although such accounts typically begin as private, cognitive reflections, “It is the reciprocal communicative act that makes this experience a powerfully social event” (Harvey & Fine, 2006, p. 189). In other words, stories of loss are told about personal relationships within the context of personal relationships. Telling these stories serves a number of positive functions, including helping people to emotionally purge, understand the events of the loss, gain self-esteem, achieve a sense of closure, and obtain control over events that may have felt wholly uncontrollable; they also may be ends in and of themselves, providing tellers with one lasting piece of the terminated relationship (Weber et al., 1987). Telling a story might also help people feel stronger and feel confident in being able to help others who encounter similar circumstances (Harvey & Fine, 2006). According to Harvey and colleagues’ (Harvey & Fine, 2006; Harvey, Weber, & Orbuch, 1990) model of reactions to loss in the process of recovery, account-making and confiding in others are instrumental to working through the stages and achieving enhanced mental and physical health associated with completion and identity change. Confidants/listeners also play a crucial role: Stories that are met with empathy and care allow the teller to continue to make progress in their account-making, whereas negative reactions from listeners may result in regression in the process and in adjustment (Harvey & Fine, 2006). Failing to complete accounts can result in physical and mental health problems. Further research on how the process of interpersonally telling breakup stories and other stories of difficulty is needed in order to enhance the theoretical links between expressing trauma and increased health (Pennebaker, 1997). Such a focus on narrative completion is common to the literature that investigates and lauds the benefits of narratively coming to terms with relationship loss. Weiss (1975) in his foundational work on divorce accounts originally proposed the idea that people who could complete their accounts, including a full understanding and acceptance of the nature of and reasons for the dissolution, would fare better than people who struggled to understand

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what happened. Koenig Kellas and Manusov (2003) tested this assumption empirically by rating the completeness of 90 written breakup narratives and testing the relationship between various aspects of narrative completeness and adjustment to the breakup. The results indicated a positive relationship between narrative completeness and self-worth and revealed that people with highly sequential/episodic narratives and those with highly coherent narratives were more adjusted to the breakup than those whose stories were rated lower on those dimensions. Sorenson, Russell, Harkness, and Harvey (1993) similarly found that narrative completeness related positively to perceptions about the relationship being over and to reported control over the adjustment process. Organization and clarity appear to be important elements to well-formed stories and also indicators of post-breakup adjustment. In his phase model of relationship dissolution, Duck (1982; Rollie & Duck, 2006) suggests that gravedressing, or telling the story of the breakup to people outside the relationship, is an integral part of the pattern of dissolving relationships. In line with this model, we argue further that more attention needs to be paid to storytelling, including the fidelity between partners’ accounts as well as the behaviors engaged in by listeners that facilitate and/or detract from coping. The collaborative process of telling our stories likely impacts the ways in which we make sense of and approach “completion” of our breakup stories.

Making Sense of Post-dissolutional Relationships Although most treatments of relationship dissolution presume a linear decline such that the breakup signifies the ending of the relationship, researchers studying accounts and narratives surrounding relationship dissolution argue that relationships do not necessarily end (Koenig Kellas, Bean, Cunningham, & Cheng, 2008; Weber et al., 1987). Many relationships live on in the stories themselves, but many former partners also participate in post-dissolutional relationships (PDRs), or relationships that persist beyond the formal breakup. In his study of PDR accounts, Masuda (2006) argues that the phases associated with Duck’s (Rollie & Duck, 2006) phase model are, in fact, crucial to the development of a PDR friendship. Specifically, he suggests that the social (i.e., discussing relational difficulties or the breakup with members of the social network), gravedressing (i.e., telling the breakup story), and resurrection (i.e., preparing for the future and new relationships) processes associated with Duck’s model are all relevant to discussing and justifying the development of PDRs. Similarly, Harvey and Fine (2006) assert that breakup accounts often predict post-dissolutional behavior. Individuals who develop platonic PDRs often feel the need to justify their relationships because there is little societal support for nonmarital or

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nonparental (i.e., post-divorce) relationships of this type (Koenig Kellas et al., 2008; Masuda, 2006; Metts & Cupach, 1995), and one way PDR members accomplish this justification is through storied accounts. Masuda found that former pre-marital romantic partners justified their PDRs by: (1) recognizing the former partner as irreplaceable in one’s life; (2) acknowledging how both partners have changed and matured; (3) denying a traumatic dissolution; (4) nullifying the elicitors’ questions about the PDR, and finally; (5) explaining that the PDR is platonic as evidenced by the former partner’s current new romantic relationship status. PDR members are often called to account for their relationships and offer a variety of ways in which they have made sense of the “non-traditional” relationship type for themselves and others through accounts. Masuda’s (2006) study is one in a small body of research on nonmarital PDRs and post-dissolutional communication (PDC). Although they have received little attention, narrative accounts of PDRs suggest several initial conclusions. First, PDRs abound. In their studies of post-divorce and PDR turning points, Graham (1997) and Koenig Kellas et al. (2008) identified 11 and 10 categories of turning-point types, respectively, suggesting the prevalence and potential durability of this relationship type. Second, individuals make sense of these relationships in individual (Graham, 1997; Koenig Kellas et al., 2008) and external accounts (Masuda, 2006), as well as in stories about the relationship dissolution (Koenig Kellas & Manusov, 2003; Koenig Kellas & Sato, in press). For example, although not asked to do so, individuals consistently wrote about PDC in their breakup accounts (Koenig Kellas & Manusov, 2003). Based on this finding, Koenig Kellas and Sato (in press) further analyzed these portions of the narratives and identified four types of PDC, including positive (i.e., friendly), rare/awkward/negative (i.e., one-sided, uncomfortable, harassing), circumstantial (i.e., occasional and due to common activities), and lack of communication (i.e., no PDC). PDRs are commonplace, but varied in terms of their communication and patterns of functioning. Third, the experience of PDRs likely differs, at least in part, according to relationship type. Masuda (2006) only looked at PDR friendships, but others have found a variety of descriptions of PDR quality (Koenig Kellas et al., 2008; Koenig Kellas & Manusov, 2003). Metts, Cupach, and Bejlovec (1989) concluded that individuals were more likely to engage in PDR friendships if the partners had been friends prior to the onset of the romantic portion of the relationship. Moreover, accounts of relationship dissolution (Cupach

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& Metts, 1986) and PDRs also differ according to the marital status of the romantic relationship. For example, both Graham (1997) and Koenig Kellas et al. (2008) found similar trajectories of PDR development, such as upward and downward progression, turbulence, deterioration, and sustained (or linear) progress. Despite similarities in the trajectories and turning points, the incidence of the patterns differed between post-divorce and postnonmarital relationships. Graham found positive turning points and trajectories dominated her sample whereas Koenig Kellas et al. found PDRs that terminated or resulted in significantly lower levels of commitment most common for the nonmarital sample. The incidence of co-parenting (in Graham’s sample) likely helps to explain these findings. Additional research is needed on the complexity of various forms of PDRs and PDC, particularly given the possible implications for coping with breakup difficulty. Koenig Kellas et al. (2008) found, for example, that those who described their PDRs in terms of a linear pattern of low commitment were the most adjusted to the relationship dissolution. This finding may reflect one’s choice in narratively framing the PDR, more than it actually represents the reality or accuracy of the lived events. Because our narratives change over time and continue to help us make relational meaning, more research is needed on how stories, meaning, and wellbeing change when the possibilities for psychological completion and separation might be challenged by continuing communication with former partners.

SENSE-MAKING IN ACTION: COPING WITH THE DARK SIDE OF PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS We turn finally to the more practical applications that the research on narrative sense-making might have for the dark side of close relationships. We agree with Gergen and Gergen (2006) who contend that “scholars have devoted far too little effort to considering narratives in action, the ways in which narrative ideas can and do function within various practical settings” (p. 112). Moreover, Fisher (1987) argues that unlike other forms of rationality that are restricted to experts, narrative is accessible to all humans, positioning narrative sense-making as particularly useful beyond clinical contexts. As a result, we wish to conclude our chapter by focusing on the practical power of sense-making, including its ability to help individuals cope with, soothe, and heal the emotional wounds that sometimes scar individuals in close relationships. As we have argued above, narrative sense-making is not always a panacea, a cure-all for helping us survive bleak relational moments. Nonetheless, research on narrative theorizing offers a starting point for ways in which relational members can cope with difficulty, as well as a springboard for future applied research. Therefore, we draw from

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sense-making literatures, including narrative psychology (McAdams, 1993; Pennebaker, 1997) and narrative therapy (White & Epston, 1990) because they provide practical implications for facilitating health in the face of difficult relational events. When individuals experience stressful life events, such as the loss of a job, illness, or the death of a loved one, it is typically assumed to be both normal and healthy for them to talk to someone about the experience. As we have seen, doing so allows relational partners to engage in catharsis, to help them come to grips with what has happened, to gain control of their emotions, and to orient themselves to their negative thoughts (Frattaroli, 2006). Although it is normally assumed that these benefits are related to disclosure processes, Pennebaker and Beall (1986) first manipulated sense-making experimentally, assigning participants to one of four writing groups who wrote about specific topics for several consecutive days. The first group wrote only about facts surrounding a life trauma and a second group wrote only about emotions surrounding the event. The third group included individuals who wrote both about the facts and about their emotions related to the trauma. Participants in the fourth group served as a control, writing about non-emotional events such as plans for the day. Pennebaker and Beall’s findings indicated that several weeks after writing, participants who wrote about both the facts and their emotions, but not those in the other three groups, experienced a reduction in doctor-related visits. These groundbreaking results suggested that a combination of factual and emotional disclosure can lead to improvements in well-being and, thus, the study served as a catalyst for a strong tradition of experimental research examining the impact of expressive disclosure. Since Pennebaker and Beall’s (1986) initial study, Pennebaker and a number of other researchers have tested different variations in the experimental design. Most studies include participants writing about their traumas and stressors and completing measures of psychological and/or physical health to assess the longitudinal effects of telling their stories. Engaging in this kind of sense-making has led to a number of benefits among many different samples. Among college students, Lyubomirsky, Sousa, and Dickerhoof (2006) determined that relative to participants who simply thought about a negative experience, those who wrote or talked about it reported improved life satisfaction and physical and mental health. Other benefits have included positive outcomes such as decreased physician visits and higher grades (Pennebaker, Colder, & Sharp, 1990), positive effects on blood markers of immune function (Pennebaker, Kiecolt-Glaser, & Glaser, 1988), and less distress, negative affect, and depression over time (Murray & Segal, 1994). Among non-student samples, disclosure has been beneficial as well. For example, women caregivers of children with autism in Campbell’s (2003) study experienced fewer post-traumatic health symptoms, and

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Richards, Beal, Seagal, and Pennebaker (2000) found that self-disclosure reduced incarcerated men’s trips to the infirmary. In addition to determining the benefits of disclosure, researchers have also been interested in understanding the reasons why telling stories of trauma seems to produce health-related improvements for so many. Three explanations include inhibition theory, cognitive-processing theory, and selfregulation theory (see Frattaroli, 2006, for a review). Inhibition theory suggests that disclosure allows people to engage in catharsis, allowing them to release inhibited thoughts and emotions about something that is upsetting them. Such disclosure reduces stress and, thus, leads to improvements in psychological and physical health outcomes. Pennebaker (1993) also determined that the ways in which participants cognitively process their trauma also impacts their health. Specifically, he found that participants who benefitted the most from disclosure used more causation words such as because, cause, and effect. Additionally, they used more insight words such as consider and know. Thus, Pennebaker concluded that simply engaging in catharsis is not the only underlying mechanism that leads to improvements in well-being, but it is also the act of making sense of, organizing, and integrating the stressful experience into one’s self-schema that is beneficial. In addition to inhibition and cognitive-processing theories, self-regulation theory suggests that writing serves to help individuals engage in a mastery experience wherein they observe themselves expressing and controlling their emotions (Lepore, Greenberg, Bruno, & Smyth, 2002). Being able to perceive that emotions are controllable, therefore, serves to reduce negative feelings and increase positive health outcomes (Frattaroli, 2006; see also Koenig Kellas et al., in press). Although the impact of disclosure seems to be positive (if modest), a few studies indicate that participants do not always experience benefits. For example, Gidron et al. (2002) determined that disclosure increased doctor-related visits in men in treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder, and Stroebe, Stroebe, Schut, Zech, and van den Bout (2002) found that widowed community members who engaged in expressive writing did not experience improvements in physical or psychological well-being over controls. Moreover, in Fivush et al.’s (2007) study wherein 9- to 13-year-olds who expressively wrote about their “deepest thoughts and feelings” were compared to those who wrote about how they typically spend their day, results indicated that participants in the emotional expression group who wrote about interpersonal problems and provided explanations for others’ behavior experienced increases in depression and anxiety. Thus, although the majority of studies on telling stories of difficulty indicate the benefits, the results are not universal. Some narrative therapy research and theorizing suggests there are specific ways in which individuals experiencing trauma engage in disclosure that may

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be more beneficial or detrimental. For example, individuals who seek therapy tend to emphasize problem-saturated stories, those that presume something negative about themselves and others (White, 2007). The narrative therapist’s goal is to engage his or her clients in a process called externalization, allowing them to see the problem as the problem rather than the person as the problem (White & Epston, 1990). Thus, individuals who are able to see their traumas as something external to themselves, may benefit more from the sense-making process than those who do not. Finally, other research indicates that focusing on the bright side of trauma may lead to positive health outcomes. For example, King and Miner (2000) determined that individuals who wrote about the perceived benefits of traumatic events, experienced the same health benefits as those who wrote about trauma per se. Similarly, McAdams et al.’s (1997) research suggests that when individuals engage in the telling of their life stories, some provide redemption sequences and others detail events in the form of contamination sequences. Redemption sequences refer to participants’ stories in which “decidedly bad events are subsequently redeemed or made better, resulting in good outcomes” (e.g., a life-threatening disease leads to strength and perseverance) (McAdams et al. 1997, p. 684). On the other hand, some participants’ stories contained contamination sequences that “identify the opposite form [of redemption], wherein a decidedly good event becomes very bad” (e.g., a new job leads to increased stress and time away from home) (McAdams et al. 1997, p. 684). Research suggests that redemption and contamination sequences are related to a number of outcomes. For example, redemption sequences have been positively correlated with generativity (i.e., the tendency to promote the well-being of and give back to the next generation) (McAdams et al., 1997), life satisfaction, life coherence, and self-esteem, and negatively correlated with depression (McAdams, Reynolds, Lewis, Patten, & Bowman, 2001). On the other hand, contamination sequences were strongly correlated with depression and negatively associated with life satisfaction, life coherence, and self-esteem (McAdams et al., 2001). Thus, this research suggests that the ways in which individuals frame their sense-making is highly consequential.

THE MORAL OF THE STORY Given the findings above as well as those reviewed throughout the chapter, relational members experiencing everyday and adverse life events may find themselves in a conundrum as research seems to indicate they should engage in sense-making, but only if they do so in particular ways (e.g., using causation words, seeing the problem as the problem, including redemption sequences, showing high levels of perspective-taking, exhibiting coherence). Thus, we

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suggest that future research experimentally manipulate these strategies in order to identify more concretely if they are effective and for whom are they beneficial. Additionally, we suggest that future research focus on the impact of communicative sense-making as opposed to individual sense-making per se, as people experiencing distress may be more likely to talk about it with someone as opposed to writing about it, particularly with regard to relational narratives. Moreover, we know less about the impact of sense-making on those individuals who listen to and provide support to people sharing stressful experiences. Bearing the burden of someone else’s stressors may have some negative health implications. For example, social workers and other clinicians who are repeatedly exposed to their clients’ vivid memories of trauma may experience what is now considered an occupational hazard known as compassion fatigue, vicarious traumatization, or secondary traumatic distress (Bride, Radey, & Figley, 2007). It is also possible, however, that listeners are impacted positively if they sense that their support helps the person experiencing difficulty come to grips with it. Like research on narrative sensemaking though, it is likely that all narrative listening is not created equal. Verbal and non-verbal messages that are empathic likely are more beneficial than those that communicate judgment, for example. Additionally, research with children and adolescents suggests that co-rumination, or “excessively discussing personal problems within a dyadic relationship” (Rose, 2002, p. 1830) is related to depression and anxiety (Rose, 2002; Rose, Carlson, & Waller, 2007). Thus, much work remains in order to unveil the most effective strategies for both storytelling and storylistening. Nonetheless, we are encouraged by the inherent possibilities that sense-making research holds for helping relational partners cope with difficulty, perhaps coming closer to helping us glimpse fairytales and live with tragedies.

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4

Dark Sides of ComputerMediated Communication David C. DeAndrea, Stephanie Tom Tong, and Joseph B. Walther

Not very long ago, but before the Internet was commonplace, many people (researchers included) feared that interacting with others through computer systems would cause people to become mechanical. Computer-mediated communication would cause dehumanization, it was claimed (Orcutt & Anderson, 1977). Although their findings were aggressively challenged later on, numerous early experiments concluded that groups who communicated in computer-mediated communication (CMC) experiments were more impersonal, task-oriented, and rude than were parallel face-to-face (FtF) groups (see for review Walther, 1996). Things have changed. The near ubiquity of the Internet in almost all aspects of our social and professional lives has shown that people actually use CMC to foster relationships—and there is not a whole lot of dehumanization to show for it. What are now referred to as “social technologies” help us to start and to maintain relationships with others, and help us to work with people across the globe. We are now, many times, deeply involved with others through communication technologies. Commensurately, there are now concerns in almost the opposite direction than before: That some individuals immerse themselves in social networks online and connect with other people in ways that over-involve them, and they lose perspective and engage in behaviors that are potentially destructive, either to themselves or to others. The most sophisticated research on the effects of Internet communication do not portray these outcomes as simple “main effects” of Internet use. Rather, whether Internet communication leads to positive or negative

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outcomes seems to be the product of complex, social, personal, and technological factors that science is beginning to understand. That the Internet helps people connect with others of like mind has always been a benefit of technology (see Hiltz & Turoff, 1978). Virtual communities, for instance, allow people to form emergent groups to share information and opinions about hobbies, illness, and technology. Unlike traditional communities, virtual communities bring people together based on common interest, not the accident of geographic proximity that neighborhoods provide (Rheingold, 1993). But some of the same dynamics that allow virtual communities to support prosocial activity leads to potentially harmful activity as well. Individuals and groups take advantage of anonymity and commonality to help support each other in hurting themselves, and to organize groups that foster prejudice, intolerance, and separatism. At a more individual level, the Internet has long been extolled as an environment in which shy people can overcome the communication anxieties they experience FtF, and where people can form relationships with and be appreciated by others not on the basis of their physical appearance or demographic categories, but rather, by their wit and wisdom. In some cases, communication via the Internet leads to hyperpersonal communication: Online relations that are more intimate and affectionate than parallel, offline encounters tend to be. But for some people, forming relationships online becomes a self-sealing cycle that provides intermittent escape but may ultimately reinforce their individual social problems. In professional and educational settings, too, communicating online in groups whose members reside in different locations may alternately produce super-productive and satisfying results, or patterns of blame and recrimination, poor efforts, and bad results. Research has been striving to identify what factors lead to which set of outcomes. The focus has narrowed on the manner in which remote collaboration fosters biased attributions for group participation failures. These distortions in blaming can disrupt virtual group members’ behavior and their ability to learn, as well as produce unwarranted antipathy for their colleagues. If the Internet can both do good as well as promote harm, the cause of these phenomena clearly cannot be inherent in the Internet itself. The Internet is, after all, wires and signals and machines, hardly capable of controlling anyone. Yet for some time researchers have observed that CMC provides “deviation-amplifying effects” (Sproull & Kiesler, 1991, p. 3). That is, whatever social good or social ill that individuals or groups may be inclined to bring to a situation, the Internet, or the affordances it offers, allows people to accentuate these proclivities. Using the three topics introduced above— excessive online social interaction, virtual communities supporting harm and hatred, and destructive attributions in online workgroups—we explore some aspects of the double-edged sword of Internet interaction. Although there

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are many topics we could discuss about which the Internet has been suggested to play a causal role—and we offer a cursory review of some in our conclusion—these three topics are among the most thoroughly researched and best understood. Our discussions of each topic present explanations about online activities that are mostly positive in nature, but each of them can lead to negative consequences as well. It is through understanding the potentials of CMC that glimpses of its desirable and undesirable aspects come into focus.

PROBLEMATIC ONLINE SOCIAL INTERACTION Far from older views that communication via technology dehumanizes its users, it is now apparent that technology offers ways to find intellectual and social partners, dates, and even marriage partners (see Chapter 5, this volume). Socializing with others via chat systems or discussion boards can be enjoyable and meaningful. In some cases, though, socializing with others can become overzealous and overwhelming. A good deal of research has examined how, for some people, virtual relationships and online interaction may be so appealing that they become addicted to the Internet or develop other problematic syndromes that result from excessive online social interaction. These issues have been approached in two major ways. The first has looked at potential addiction to Internet use, which may ensnare many, many users indiscriminately, and the second has looked at the attractions to and problems from socializing online for a specific subset of Internet users who have difficulties in their offline social interactions. This section examines both these lines of research. The potential for Internet addiction has raised alarms in the news media, prompted numerous social scientific studies, and even led to the development of therapeutic interventions (some of which are delivered online, for example www.netaddiction.com). A Chinese hospital has even attempted (and abandoned) electroshock therapy as a means to cure Internet addicts (Associated Press, 2009). For all these concerns, research on the existence of Internet addiction has been quite contradictory. There is no doubt that many individuals overuse and misuse the Internet, and that they disrupt their lives and offline relationships at the same time. Whether the Internet is the cause, or a symptom of other problems, remains unclear. Internet abuse has been associated with a variety of negative outcomes such as missing class or work (Caplan, 2005), depression (LaRose, Lin, & Eastin, 2003), and loneliness (Morahan-Martin, 1999; Morahan-Martin & Schumacher, 2000). However, given the cross-sectional nature of most of these studies, causality is impossible to determine. Do people skip class to play online video games or do they play online video games because they skipped

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class? Does compulsive Internet use cause people to be lonely or do lonely people simply turn to the Internet for escape? In addition to the problem of uncertain causality, most Internet addiction research has been conducted on largely non-problematic populations (see for review LaRose et al., 2003) and included subjective assessments that assume offline relationships are superior to online relationships (Grohol, 1999). Despite the numerous negative outcomes associated with compulsive Internet use, more research needs to be done to truly understand its effects (both positive and negative) and the populations most susceptible to them. Do people become addicted to the Internet? Some argue that they do. The term “Internet addiction disorder” has likened excessive Internet use to both substance abuse (Li & Chung, 2006) and impulse control disorders such as pathological gambling (Young & Rogers, 1998). Within this approach, it has been pointed out, some clinical researchers support a broad view which treats any syndrome of excessive behavior as an addiction (Morahan-Martin, 2005). For instance, Shaffer et al. (2004) state that, “Although distinct expressions of addiction have unique elements, these different manifestations also share many neurobiological and psychosocial antecedents and consequents” (p. 371). Such an approach permits all behavior as having a chemical basis, and that any behavior an individual engages in frequently could be called an addiction (Grohol, 1999). In an effort to avoid semantic and etiological arguments while simultaneously promoting some recognition of compulsive Internet use, other researchers have chosen terms such as Internet behavior dependence (Hall & Parsons, 2001), and pathological Internet use (Davis, 2001). Despite the nomenclature, Internet addiction is generally assessed using questionnaires or other diagnostics that borrow quite freely from alcohol and drug dependence criteria. These include a great deal of time spent online, difficulty terminating Internet activity, euphoric feelings while using the Internet, withdrawal symptoms such as agitation or depression when denied Internet use, needing greater amounts of Internet activity over time in order to maintain the level of reward that smaller durations formerly provided, and disruption in one’s normal life primarily due to neglect of other obligations. In most diagnostic inventories, answering affirmatively to several of these criteria warrants a diagnosis of addiction, no matter which ones or how severely (see for review Walther & Reid, 2000). Other researchers argue that Internet overuse may be a reflection of some other etiology. Approaching Internet use as if it is an addiction may do more harm than good if other, more pernicious, problems are behind it. It may be that individuals who have other psychological disorders turn to the Internet. For instance, depressives may use the Internet to escape their depression, while compulsives use it as a manifestation of their compulsive personalities (King, 1996; LaRose et al., 2003).

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Despite the variety of these approaches, one weakness pervades all of them, and that is that there is no sufficiently strong theoretical or conceptual basis for understanding what it is about Internet use that addicts people. Science understands well why certain drugs become physiologically addictive when an individual uses them sufficiently and repeatedly. But Internet use involves no known addictive physical or biochemical component. Compulsive gambling is nurtured by random reinforcement patterns, and no such pattern has been identified in relation to Internet use. In other words, the question of why people may become addicted to the Internet has rarely been addressed beyond the level of metaphoric comparisons. Two approaches exist that provide stronger theoretical bases with which to explain certain individuals’ proclivity for heavy Internet use. Both of these models differ from previous approaches in that: (1) they focus on certain types of people, not all Internet users, as being prone to excessive Internet use; (2) they describe interactions between individuals’ pre-existing psychosocial problems and attributes of Internet communication that provide escape from those problems; and (3) they recognize, to different extents, the benefits to many Internet users in terms of the potential for online socializing to provide rewarding experiences, yet show how these benefits affect certain users in particularly strong ways. The cognitive–behavioral model of problematic Internet use introduced by Davis (2001) is the first of these models. It helps explain the process through which people are disposed to excessive Internet use and how it is reinforced. Davis contends that some psychosocial problems such as depression or social anxiety lead to maladaptive cognitions, which people are able to mitigate by using the Internet in certain ways. Put differently, people with psychosocial problems engage in unhealthy cognitive rumination about themselves, and their external social environment. Online, however, they are able to escape these feelings of self-worthlessness by reinventing themselves as more socially attractive personae. Positive social interactions online reinforce these forays until ultimately such individuals think that they are nobody offline but that they are somebody online. Unhealthy cognitions such as “the Internet is the only place where I am respected” exacerbate Internet dependence (Davis, 2001). The last model appears to be the most sophisticated, albeit the most complex. Caplan (2003) extended Davis’ cognitive–behavioral model by specifying the appeal of Internet social interaction, in a general sense, but in a way that certain people may find to be their best, or their only, alternative by which to have rewarding social relationships. A large body of CMC

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research identifies why people might find online social interaction particularly attractive (see Caplan, 2005). As noted by Walther (1996), the reduction of cues (i.e., absence of physical appearance) often afforded by CMC permits senders to strategically control emotional cues that are typically manifest nonverbally in FtF interactions. Furthermore, the asynchronous nature of some CMC reduces time restrictions and permits individuals the ability to edit their statements in a manner not available during real-time FtF discussions. These affordances can lead people to create idealized perceptions of one another that are susceptible to intensification through behavioral confirmation. That is, positive first impressions (enabled by strategic selfpresentation) spawn enjoyable interactions that lead participants to behave and think of themselves in ways consistent with the efficacious interaction. It is precisely these affordances, Caplan (2005) argues, that are critically appealing to individuals suffering from depression and social anxiety offline. Individuals who experience high levels of social anxiety in FtF settings are often poor communicators. Their anxiety fosters incompetent interaction patterns with others offline, and creates a self-fulfilling prophecy: Anticipating that FtF interaction will go badly, they become more anxious, and their performances suffer further. In CMC conversations, individuals have greater control over their messages. Anxiety is not apparent nonverbally and individuals can contemplate what they would like to say without others staring at them while they compose their messages. Their interactions are less anxiety-ridden, more effective, and more rewarding online than those which they typically achieve offline. Under these conditions such individuals develop what Caplan (2005, p. 629) refers to as a preference for online social interaction, or POSI, “characterized by beliefs that one is safer, more efficacious, more confident, and more comfortable with online interpersonal interactions and relationships than with traditional FtF social activities.” This hypothesis is reflected in research indicating that problematic Internet users gained social confidence online and found that it was easier to make friends online than offline (Morahan-Martin & Schumacher, 2000). The theoretical aspect of Caplan’s approach that distinguishes it from others, and from Internet addiction research generally, is its focus on the specific kind of rewards that users find compelling. Models of Internet addiction do not approach the question of what it is about the Internet that causes its overuse; use itself leads to overuse and addiction in their views, just as drugs lead to escape and dependency with little need for further explanation. In the POSI model, the root cause of Internet (over)use is the satisfaction users derive from the maintenance of rewarding social relationships online which, for some people, has no offline alternative. Relationships drive these individuals online, not the experience of being online in and of itself. Ironically, according to Caplan, these benefits do not come without a cost. It appears that frequent online social interaction, for those with offline social

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skills deficits, leads to further reductions in their offline communication skills. Their ability to be competent online and the greater rewards that online relationships offer them leads such individuals to retreat further from FtF interaction, and to rely on Internet chat more and more. To an outsider, this may look like addiction. Perhaps it is an adaptation. It is a morally ambiguous paradox to evaluate: We do not favor situations and processes that lead to declines in the ability to manage social interaction effectively. After all, books are written, classes are taught, and values are strongly held on the importance of improving skills in social interaction. On the other hand, it is hard to say that those who are unsuccessful offline should not pursue the best chance they may have of carrying on rewarding interactions with other people, in a space where they can present themselves and be perceived in the most desirable ways that they can manage.

DARK COMMUNITIES: THE DUALITY OF ONLINE SOCIAL SUPPORT A well-known function of the Internet is its ability to foster “virtual communities” in which people meet in online spaces to communicate mutual interests, ask questions, and form relationships. Virtual communities were studied as early as 1993, and early observers noticed both their capacities for seeking and sharing information as well as for forming strong bonds with other people online. Informationally, Rheingold (1993, p. 81) observed, “If you need specific information or an expert opinion or a pointer to a resource, a virtual community is like a living encyclopedia.” If you have ever relied on the product evaluations or seller ratings that others post on various Internet discussion forums before you have bought something, you have seen a glimpse of a virtual community in action. When large groups of dozens or hundreds of people establish a discussion space devoted to a particular hobby, issue, or problem, a deeper virtual community has emerged. People often develop a strong sense of trust with others online, most of whom they have never met offline, on the basis of their similar experiences, which they share with one another through their messages (Wang, Walther, Pingree, & Hawkins, 2008). Society is changing as a result: “The traditional human orientation to neighborhood- and village-based groups is moving towards communities that are oriented around geographically dispersed social networks . . . . People communicate and maneuver in these networks rather than being bound up in one solitary community” (Boase, Horrigan, Wellman, & Rainie, 2006). Among the foci of virtual communities, a large number have emerged related to the exchange of social support for a variety of issues. Social support has traditionally been viewed as communication between close relational partners to convey assistance, via the exchange of verbal and nonverbal

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messages containing emotion, information, or advice (Goldsmith, 1994). The dynamics of social support, however, are being changed by the Internet. Nonverbal exchanges are no longer considered requisite for communications of a personal nature. Individuals do not have to rely on communication among close relationships to get help. In fact, if one’s close offline contacts often have not experienced the problem an individual is going through, they are often of little assistance. In contrast, individuals can look to online communities where large numbers of people with similar concerns virtually gather. Support communities exist for an incredible array of issues and problems, from physical illness such as cancer treatment (www.cancer linksusa.com/support/index.asp), to recovery from sexual abuse (stepchat. com/abuse), and dealing with emotional problems such as grief management for military families (www.militaryspousesupport.net). A very extensive list of online support groups can be found on the website, “Emotional Support on the Internet” (Harris, 2006), at www.cix.co.uk/~net-services/ care/list.htm, although the list is far from exhaustive. Online support groups demonstrate the transmission of many of the same types of support that traditional, FtF support conveys (see Braithwaite, Waldron, & Finn, 1999). This includes information support, in which people answer questions about factual issues and recommendations for solutions to problems. “However, information is only one of many social resources exchanged on the Net. Many Net members get help in electronic support groups for social, physical, and mental problems along with information about treatments, practitioners, and other resources” (Wellman & Gulia, 1999, p. 171). Esteem support is also prevalent, where people help each other feel good about their efforts, for example, to quit smoking, lose weight, see a doctor, etc., and not to blame themselves for difficulties they may be experiencing. Social network support abounds, by which people steer others to additional sources of information or to other people who can help them. Material support, while common offline, is less prevalent online, since Internet connectivity conveys conversation but is obviously less able to support doing material things for others.

Online Social Support Dynamics As the prevalence of online support communities came into view, researchers asked what their appeal was to people beyond the simple affordance of access to numbers of like-minded people. Walther and Boyd (2002) argued that, in many ways, online support mitigates many of the problems associated with traditional FtF support systems. A survey of individuals who have used online support groups led to the identification of several factors that attract people to online support compared to offline discussion.

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Social Distance. Walther and Boyd found that the social distance provided by the Internet provided several advantages. First, online social support increases weak tie relationships (Wellman & Gulia, 1999). Individuals are able to communicate with those outside of their normal social networks (their close ties, who tend to know the same things as the support seeker), with several notable benefits in addition to the number of people they could reach. There is greater expertise and more diversity of information among weak ties. Social distance also suggests that, since participants do not share a relationship, CMC also reduces the dependency that sometimes arises as a result of requests for social support. Feelings of obligation, loss of control, and fear of ruining important relationships are drawbacks to offline social support (Albrecht, Burleson, & Goldsmith, 1994), which online support can solve. Social distance implies additionally that discussing potentially embarrassing problems with relative strangers reduces the likelihood that their comments will come back to haunt them in their offline network of friends and associates. Anonymity. In a related fashion, the Internet enables people to communicate anonymously with others. When no one knows who is posting content online, this technological “mask” allows for more personal selfdisclosures and questions without anxiety. This benefit of not knowing others on the Internet provides a sense of freedom, allowing individuals to disclose their most private thoughts and questions in a public space. Interaction Management. The asynchronous and editable nature of CMC is also valued by social support participants. The ability to edit, craft, and construct verbal messages before actually sending them into cyberspace allows for more detailed and articulate expression. Asynchrony additionally means individuals have complete control over when and where they communicate—an option not available in other channels. Thus, they may not feel a sense of obligation to continue participating should they no longer find the support useful or helpful (as they may feel in FtF support groups); they can simply stop posting or participating in the online space if they so choose. Furthermore, the recordable nature of the Internet gives individuals the option to read and re-read questions, answers, and discussion threads. This increased power over message composition, communication dynamics, and participation can give individuals a much stronger sense of online interaction management, allowing them to transmit more intended and precise questions and answers to one another. Access. Another advantage of online social support is its easy access. Individuals can find help, answers, encouragement, and inspiration 24 hours

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a day, seven days a week on the Internet, no matter where they are. Its ubiquity eliminates the costs of their time and travel to find and join others of like minds. “That on-line support is available any time, and that non-electronic support is not, is the essence of this dimension” (Walther & Boyd, 2002, p. 8).

Extreme Communities and Hate Groups: The Destructive Side of Online Social Support Although the dynamics of the Internet described above have been documented as useful for coping with issues such as cancer treatments, grief management, and rape trauma, there is growing recognition that the Internet is utilized in similar ways for more negative purposes. Through the use of the same social and communicative dynamics described above, social support groups exist on the Web that promote harmful behavior. These groups include discussions about how to commit suicide, how to manage (not stop) eating disorders, and those which foment racism, among many other topics. How do the attributes of virtual communities that support healing also support harming? For one thing, these “extreme” communities (Bell, 2007) thrive on the anonymity provided by the Internet. Although increased selfdisclosures and anonymity can be therapeutic, in these contexts, members disclose their own personal successes with these harmful behaviors and encourage others to do the same. Several example groups are described in the following.

Extreme Communities. Pro-anorexia (“proana”) and pro-bulimia groups abound online (e.g., forum.proanamia.com; www.houseofthin.com; community.livejournal.com/proanorexia). These groups provide support for what they call a “lifestyle choice,” rather than pathologically harmful behavior. In fact, some researchers point to the Internet as one of the leading reasons why the proana movement has gained such momentum: “The proanorexia movement has been nurtured by two technologies: information and communication technology such as the internet, and the development of effective pharmaceuticals for weight loss” (Fox, Ward, & O’ Rourke, 2005, p. 951). Some groups provide forums for posts or other communications with “bulimia buddies,” which are individuals matched together based on their individual behaviors and eating disorders. Other groups provide “thinspirations” consisting of images and motivational quotations, “creeds and commandments,” advice and tips for continued weight loss, and fostered competitions for weight loss (Chesley, Alberts, Klein, & Kreipe, 2003). What many of those who belong to these “anti-recovery” websites find helpful is the

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support offered by other people. In Fox et al.’s (2005) interviews of proana website members, one respondent expressed appreciation for the way that support for “anti-recovery” was offered “‘in a nonjudgmental way,’ rather than the ‘politically-correct’ approach in which support was given to achieve recovery” (p. 959). Some worry that people who are contemplating suicide and seeking online help to stop might stumble into online pro-suicide groups: While lonely and disconnected persons may find that support groups help them to seek therapeutic interventions and to find help for their struggles, others may surf onto pro-suicide or “pro-choice” suicide forums that not only avoid discouraging them from suicide, but sometimes go so far as to provide them with step-by-step suicide instructions. (Recupero, Harms, & Noble, 2008, p. 879)

These groups use the dynamics of online social support to promote prosuicide attitudes by sharing thoughts, methods, instructions, and potential locations to commit suicide (Becker & Schmidt, 2005). Anonymity allows them to disclose their views, communicate with like-minded others, and share lethal instructions. Social distance provides users opportunities to share their thoughts without experiencing the social disapproval or scrutiny from close relational others or medical professionals. In addition, the increased access to those with similar suicidal tendencies has allowed suicide pacts to be more easily arranged online (Recupero et al., 2008). Although many different people have access to these groups, Becker and Schmidt (2005) point out that adolescents, familiar with Internet technologies, are a demographic that is especially likely to join (and be persuaded by) these pro-choice suicide groups.

Virtual Racist Communities. Like the extreme communities mentioned above, racial hate groups also thrive on the anonymity, access, interaction management, and social distance provided by technology. The hate groups and White supremacist groups that use the Web to support their own virtual communities, like other virtual communities, support groups of like-minded people with certain beliefs—in this case beliefs about the anthropological differences among humans, the politics of how to deal with these differences, and the imminent danger of failing to do so. Many who hold these racist beliefs recount the social rejection they have faced in various offline situations when they try to express their ideological views (see De Koster & Houtman, 2008). As a result, many say, they conceal their views in FtF encounters but can express them in online communities, which they perceive as “a safe place to express your opinion” (De Koster & Houtman, 2008, p. 1166). In these online communities, members bolster each other’s views and buffer themselves, collectively, against others who would deride them for their beliefs.

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There are numerous White supremacist groups who have established websites online. A sample of them can be accessed via a listing maintained by the Texas Gang Investigators Association (2009). Some of them serve as the virtual gathering points of the American Nazi party, regional Ku Klux Klan groups, or organized skinhead groups of various kinds—virtual communities with linkages to offline entities. Other online communities do not appear to have formal ties to specific White supremacist organizations, but rather seem to serve individuals or emergent groups with their own particular axe to grind, particularly focusing on Jews and Blacks, as well as Catholics, ethnic minorities, and people whose ancestry came from countries other than those dominated by Caucasians. Still others focus their hatred on White gentiles who do not oppose racial and ethnic minority groups. It is as if the organizers of these sites perceive minority members as being less than human and beneath contempt, but that White people who are unsympathetic to their cause are the most dangerous traitors. They admonish these other White people to “wake up” to their own complicity in helping minority members to integrate in neighborhoods and occupy jobs, which is seen as imperiling the prospects of White Americans. An informal inspection of such groups shows a variety of rhetorical strategies and foci. Many of them post venomous depictions of Jewish conspiracy and/or African Americans’ inferiority, and depict Blacks as having pent-up anger they expect one day to be unleashed on White people. Many sites foment distrust of the government, portraying it as an arm of the greater conspiracy or as a misguided and corrupt force in its own right. Other sites take a seemingly rational tone to argue for separatism: They propose that it is everyone’s civil right to foster their own ways and traditions without interference by others who do not agree with them, and that White separatists should be entitled to exercise this right just as anyone else (see for review Daniels, 2008). Douglas, McGarty, Bliuc, and Lala (2005) point out that the organizers and webmasters of some of these groups have learned that spouting vitriol and advocating violence against minority groups often backfires. When websites promote active conflict toward minorities, law enforcement agencies and Internet service providers have shut down their sites. Because of this, some sites attempt to portray themselves calmly and rationally. For example, one such site that contains a discussion forum where its visitors can post comments to one another (and to the world) offers “guidelines for posting” to try and keep themselves out of court and out of the New York Times (www.stormfront.org, 2009). It says, DO NOT advocate or suggest any activity which is illegal under U.S. law. • •

No profanity. Avoid racial epithets. No attacks against other White nationalities.

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Yet for all their espousals of reasoned discourse, the discussion boards on this and other sites, which are not subject to the same deliberation and concern over public reaction as the main websites may be, are where members show their real feelings. For example, I am getting tired of seeing groups of race mixed youths running around with the Whites in the group acting like they have never learned anything in their entire life. Somewhere up in their head is a brain in which not even one brain cell is being used. Third World invaders are only looking to horn in on something and take whatever Whites have away for them self’s. Negros? No end to the violence and can’t do anything right. Asians? Want to turn America into some place like Japan or China. Hispanics are a combination of both and want to annex all of the U.S. and make it part of Mexico. And the Liberals? It’s anything goes with them so nothing much seems to bother them except for Conservatives who are trying to maintain our race and culture. Let’s give liberals the middle finger by joining THE NATIONAL ALLIANCE and making America into the country it should be: an all White conservative and quality nation.

To which a 10th-grader who claims to attend a school where Caucasians are in the minority replies, “Despite my lack of friends, I’m not going to be brainwashed into that we-should-all-hold-hands-and-recite-the-I-have-adream-speech-then-make-biracial-babies-together-while-singing-kumbayaand-watching-MTV. Having nonwhite friends really makes you a bad nationalist.” Much of what appears on these sites portray White people as victims and in danger from various threats, from assertions that there is an imminent succession to “Black rule” in the United States, as happened in South Africa when apartheid was terminated (a parallel that suggests that White rule is the presumed status quo), to fears that White bloodlines are being contaminated by a mixing of races. More examples could be offered, although we take some repulsion at the prospect of furthering such comments. The real and ironic point to be made is that these communities thrive on the Internet because they can feel comfortable with similar people online, in contrast to being stigmatized offline—made to feel uncomfortable for their beliefs and experiences. They buffer each other with respect to the disapproval that they find in mainstream society. They find expertise online that they may not find offline (in the case of people with pseudo-scientific views of genetics or holocaust revisionism). They are able to exchange not only esteem support for expressing their extreme views (by consorting with others who make them believe their views are normal, and preferable) but they also foster a feeling of solidarity among themselves with affect-laden messages such as birthday greetings (De Koster & Houtman, 2008). They boost each other both ideologically (i.e., reinforcing their alleged superiority over other kinds of people) and emotionally, as De Koster and Houtman

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(2008, p. 1167) reflected in the words of “Herman,” a member of Stormfront: “‘We have a cohesive factor: love for our people and fatherland, incomprehension by outsiders, and loyalty.’” Ironically, these are some of the dynamics that prosocial support communities share. Where online groups for HIV/AIDS patients buffer each other against stigma, where overweight people encourage each other’s efforts to diet, where noncustodial divorced fathers help each other by discussing legal rights and strategies, so too do individuals help each other learn to be more anorexic, or better Nazis. Researchers are attempting to come to terms with these issues and look for ways to counteract these forces. Civil organizations are developing educational materials and watchdog groups to try to defuse them (e.g., www.stophate.org, www.splcenter.org, and www.wiesenthal.com). Meanwhile, these darker forms of virtual communities are allowed to persist, and in a way rightly so; to restrict some people from supporting one another’s views online is a slippery slope, which could affect others whose views are seen as out of the mainstream by other people, a premise which a society that values free speech cannot seriously consider. As a Federal district court decision about restricting the Internet concluded, “Just as the strength of the Internet is chaos, so the strength of our liberty depends on the chaos and cacophony of the unfettered speech the First Amendment protects” (Judge Dalzell, ACLU v. Reno, 1996). It appears that those dynamics that make CMC an advantageous alternative to FtF social support can also function in a destructive, harmful way. CMC itself is neither positive nor negative—it remains neutral—however, its application seems to be equally effective in both prosocial and extreme virtual communities. At the same time, the visibility of hate groups online also makes them easier to monitor by law enforcement agencies and associations who track the potential threat from such groups, the behavior of which might otherwise remain clandestine.

VIRTUAL SCAPEGOATS: ATTRIBUTIONS IN VIRTUAL GROUPS One of the earliest prospects for the application of CMC in professional and academic work was its promise for the support of virtual groups, that is, small groups of people collaborating on projects using CMC to interact with one another (Johansen, Vallee, & Spangler, 1979). There is no question that working in groups—even traditional, FtF groups—presents numerous challenges and frustrations. Yet some facets of working in short-term computer-mediated groups seem to encourage certain judgmental biases when members encounter problems and group performance is suboptimal. The attributions that individual people make for themselves, that is, the way they explain to themselves the way they acted with respect to their group

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interaction is subject to self-serving biases. In virtual groups there seems to be a tendency to scapegoat one’s distant, unfamiliar partners, even when it is oneself who did not participate fully or completely. These erroneous attributions lead to animosity and tension, as well as poor productivity. Beyond the immediate effects of these errors, researchers believe, this pattern of blaming blinds individuals to their own shortcomings as virtual group members, which inhibits their prospects for individual improvement in such groups. This creates self-fulfilling cycles of blame and a worsening of performance further down the road. The next section of this chapter reviews the applications and typical misfortunes of geographically distributed virtual groups, from an attribution perspective. We also present some remedies which research has demonstrated help to alleviate these destructive cycles. In business, there are numerous estimates that a majority of collaborative groups work online. Virtual groups save travel expenses. They allow collaborators to discuss projects opportunistically, asynchronously (i.e., using email or group communication systems that do not involve real-time discussion), when their own schedules and openings allow them to, rather than having to schedule meetings that suit a number of individuals’ schedules (see for review Hinds & Kiesler, 2002). Virtual groups can support transcontinental or international collaborations that take advantage of different regional requirements or information resources. In online education, too, virtual groups have become a popular alternative to classroom teaching. Collaborative group projects among students are often said to be better than learning course material from textbooks and live or video-recorded lectures alone. In contrast to groups who experience the attribution problems described above, under the right circumstances virtual student groups have the capacity to generate more productivity, and more affectionate intermember relations, than do FtF groups (see, e.g., Walther, 1997). Several studies of long-term groups, with several projects, depict more successful and harmonious relations than in short-term groups (see for review Walther, 2008). Research has attempted to compare long-term and short-term groups for clues about the causes of the different outcomes they achieve. One explanation suggests that virtual groups require a number of adaptations to the nature and flow of CMC in order to operate successfully. For instance, because CMC messages tend to occur more infrequently than FtF conversational utterances, the exchange of information in virtual groups takes place more slowly than in parallel offline settings. Therefore, virtual groups need to start their collaborations sooner, and exchange messages much more frequently, than FtF groups may do (Walther & Bunz, 2005). Virtual groups need to be explicit in their messages, with regard both to their expected work pace (so there are no surprising gaps) and in their discussions of one another’s contributions since there is no head-shaking or frowning to give

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feedback more subtly. Virtual groups, like FtF groups, benefit from setting, and meeting, interim deadlines. In virtual groups, meeting interim deadlines is crucial for signaling reliability, whereas a failure to meet deadlines makes partners quite nervous. Long-term virtual groups tend to make these adjustments. Even short-term groups that meet these “rules of virtual groups” exhibit greater trust and believe their work is better; outside evaluators also rate work better by groups who follow these rules more rather than less. However, when the rules of virtual groups are not followed—that is, when groups do not adapt to the medium and they do an inferior job—dark sides emerge. Not only do their trust levels and work quality decline, they also experience problematic attribution patterns (Cramton, 2001). Attribution refers to the manner in which people come to ascribe what the cause was for another person’s behavior. Attributions are interesting because people often make them in ways that reflect unconscious, self-serving biases and prejudices. Generally speaking, attribution research (e.g., Ross, 1977) finds that we tend to blame others for negative events and to credit ourselves (or people we like or feel similar to) for positive events (for a recent review and alternative, see Bazarova & Walther, 2009; Malle, Knobe, & Nelson, 2007). These patterns are said to occur whether or not they are correct. They protect individuals’ egos from self-blame. It follows, then, that when an individual has contributed a poor performance in a virtual group, it would be distressing to blame oneself for one’s misbehavior. Virtual groups provide an easy escape from this type of self-recrimination, however. In the situation where one has never seen and does not know remote partners well, remote partners become the scapegoat for an individual’s own problems (Walther & Bazarova, 2007). From an attribution perspective, this is the manifestation of people’s self-serving attribution bias. In order to protect our self-esteem, we are more likely to make situational attributions for our own bad deeds (blaming some external factor) than we are to make dispositional attributions (blame our own personal characteristics). When we operate in social interactions with others, as we do in a group, the other members become potential external factors that may take the blame for our own misdeeds (Robins, Mendelsohn, & Spranca, 1996). And when the group is virtual, where remote partners are unseen and ephemeral, members are easy targets who can be blamed for the poor performances that an individual may have committed. Indeed, in virtual groups with all members residing in different cities across the United States, virtual group members blamed a partner for the worst thing they themselves admitted to doing in the group significantly more frequently than groups whose members all resided in the same place. Collocated group members more frequently blamed themselves instead (Walther & Bazarova, 2007).

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We have witnessed cases in which the false attributions that virtual group members expressed for other partners’ behavior led to demoralization and resentment. They make it personal, while also denouncing “those people” from whatever location, institution, or other country they may represent (Walther, Boos, & Jonas, 2002). One can see why researchers fear that false attributions inhibit learning and improving as an individual virtual group worker: If the group’s or individual’s failings are attributed to others, and faulty processes are blamed on others, the individual agent has no motivation to examine his or her own behavior, behavior which may itself have failed to accommodate virtual communication’s requisites. Without recognizing that one’s self may be to blame, there can be no introspection and no learning. This is to say that the failures to adapt to virtual group communication can lead to a self-fulfilling prophecy of skepticism and commensurate poor performance in virtual group arrangements. (Walther, 2008, p. 280)

Thus, it is not CMC per se that creates problematic blame patterns in online groups, but the way that CMC allows people to work with others who they do not know and do not see, who can then become easy targets for blame in a way that FtF interaction does not promote. Just as attribution theory helps us understand how things go wrong in virtual groups, attribution theory has guided some interventions that allow facilitators to help virtual groups go right. Research by Walther et al. (2002) investigated whether attributions of responsibility can be redirected away from one’s partners and back to the self—to get individuals to recognize their own contributions to poor performance in a virtual group—and whether, once sensitized to one’s own mistakes, individuals would learn, refrain from blaming others, and work harder themselves. Their premise was that, when a virtual group contains no unknown partners on which to scapegoat the poor performance of an individual, members must focus their attention on their own behaviors that did not contribute to the group’s adaptation. The researchers compiled student teams of different kinds in three waves of projects, who met in online groups to complete short research papers. The students were members of a course that met at a university in the United States or one in Germany. In the first wave, unlike the typical virtual group, groups were composed entirely of students from the same university as one another. Even though they saw each other in class every other day, they were restricted to a Web-based communication system for their two-week group projects. When they finished, assessments reflected that they did not adapt well at all to the requirements of online collaboration, discussed above; they did not adhere to the rules of virtual groups. They procrastinated, and communicated infrequently; they exhibited frustration, and performed poorly on their projects. However,

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because the groups were composed of people that members knew, there was no remote scapegoat on whom to blame poor performance. Group members reflected on their adaptation problems, which they appeared to recognize, and many expressed an inclination to approach things differently next time. Subsequent waves of group projects involved members from both Germany and the United States working together online. These groups performed well, used time effectively, and communicated frequently. They enjoyed their projects and many made friends among their remote colleagues. Questionnaires indicated high scores on affection and liking, impression development, project effort, and even on measures of perceived physical attractiveness related to their virtual partners. It appears that training virtual group members to focus attributions on themselves, rather than on virtual scapegoats, has the potential to lighten the otherwise dark dimensions of online collaboration.

CONCLUSION This review has focused on three foci where aspects of Internet communication can lead to negative outcomes, not always, but sometimes. These three foci—problematic online social interaction, harmful virtual community support, and misattributions in virtual groups—are hallmark cases in the dark side of relationships. First, each of them takes place in settings where technology is associated with prosocial benefits more generally, but in some cases turn out with dire consequences. Second, they occur due to subtle twists or redirections of the very same communicative and cognitive means that allow the technology platforms to achieve prosocial ends. Third, each of them has at its core a fundamental relational component: Because individuals who have difficulty with relationships offline find greater reward creating them online, they use the Internet as their primary relational conduit, to their own continuing offline demise; because virtual community members find solidarity and trust among those with like minds and experiences which they may not as easily do among their offline neighbors, friends, and families, they support one another’s self-harm or paranoid hatred of others in online support groups and discussion lists; and when virtual groups contain members from afar whom others do not see or know, they blame those remote miscreants for their own poor performances, causing unwarranted antagonism and harming the group’s potential even further. In all of these contexts, communication via the Internet often leads to happy endings but, for reasons we have identified above, the same processes can lead to negativity as well. There are surely many other problems that have been associated with Internet communication. In our view, however, there is less research or less

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robust research on most such phenomena that allow us to understand their pervasiveness or what specific role the Internet plays in them. Here are a few examples. First, sensationalistic media reports often raise concerns about the seduction of children through chatroom encounters, leading to runaways and sometimes to encounters with pedophiles. One could approach this concern through discussion of the hyperpersonal communication process, which we have alluded to in the case of POSI, above, to speculate on how individuals form intense, trusting relations online, even with strangers, and how selective self-presentation allows abductors to make themselves appear so benevolent and appealing. Although such cases are no doubt serious, it is not clear how extensive this kind of problem actually is (see Walsh & Wolak, 2005; Wolak, Finkelhor, Mitchell, & Ybarra, 2008). Our chief concern, though, is that these kinds of events probably take place more frequently offline than they do online. Without information to the contrary, it would be inappropriate to identify properties of Internet communication that cause them. Similarly, there is long-standing concern that it is easier to lie about oneself via the Internet than FtF. Sensationalistic cases of identity fraud keep this topic in the public eye (e.g., Van Gelder, 1985), some of which ended in murder (Laby, 2007) or suicide (Steinhauer, 2008). Although the Internet helped in perpetrating these frauds, the Internet’s unique role in them is unclear. As unusual and regrettable as they are, they are not the first times that individuals have pretended to be the gender they are not, murdered someone over jealousy, or committed suicide over rejection. What might be the Internet’s role in deception? A popular explanation suggests that without nonverbal cues to contradict bogus claims, it is more difficult to tell if someone we encounter online is not something he or she claims to be or is deviating from accurate self-presentations (e.g., Hollingshead, 2000). Also, many suspect that without the nonverbal cues that are believed to accompany deceptive communication—stereotypical behaviors such as averting mutual gaze, or exhibiting nervous movements—that other kinds of lies are likely to go undetected when they are committed online. Research has found, however, that online deceivers, rather than detectors, are the ones who are hampered by not being able to see their partners’ nonverbal cues—cues to suspicion, not deception—when deception focuses on attitudes and behaviors rather than identities (Burgoon, Stoner, Bonito, & Dunbar, 2003; Woodworth, Hancock, & Goorha, 2005). Although much systematic research is beginning to accumulate on the topic of misleading identity presentations—for instance, that people who build online dating profiles distort their actual weight or height in their postings (Toma, Hancock, & Ellison, 2008; see Chapter 5, this volume)—much of that research has not included FtF comparison conditions, and as such it is impossible to know whether online date-seekers lie more than offline date-seekers. There is no reliable evidence

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that people misrepresent themselves online more than they do FtF, and we find it hard to believe that many people do not misrepresent aspects of themselves in flirtations and short-term courtships, no matter what medium they are using. Research that lays the blame for deceit on Internet communication risks ignoring substantial research showing (1) that people are generally poor deception detectors FtF (Bond & DePaulo, 2006), and that (2) the most reliable cues to deception are those which are transmitted verbally, not nonverbally (Park, Levine, McCornack, Morrison, & Ferrara, 2002). More credible research is beginning to develop with respect to cyberstalking. Cyberstalking refers to a complex of behaviors performed by an individual over time that inflict unwanted communication and intrusions on another individual, according to research by Spitzberg and Hoobler (2002). These behaviors include sending unwanted emails, at minimum, to efforts to steal the identity and ruin the reputation of the target individual, at more sinister levels. Spitzberg and Hoobler’s review of the emerging literature suggests that many individuals who engage in cyberstalking are likely to possess various psychological illnesses such as borderline personality disorder (see also Sheridan & Grant, 2007). If this is so, it is similar to the view of Internet addiction that suggests that the Internet may not be addictive per se, but individuals who are prone to other problems use the Internet to manifest them. Regardless of its cause, cyberstalking appears to manifest several dimensions, including the more common hyperintimacy (sending exaggerated messages of affection, need, disclosure, and/or harassment), and the less common invasion or intrusion (sabotaging reputation, exposing private information, and surveillance). Despite the potential of the Internet to allow cyberstalkers to hide themselves and avoid physical confrontations with victims, cyberstalking appears to occasion physical stalking as well. Future research may endeavor to learn whether the Internet merely facilitates new forms of what is called “obsessive relational intrusion,” or whether our exposure to one another via CMC induces stalking of any kind for some reason. All these topics and examples reflect that when it comes to the Internet, it is difficult to sort out when the medium plays a causal role in the darker effects that are seen. If it does, what aspects of the Internet play a part? The lack of nonverbal cues in text-based communications? The distance between communicators when they interact? The asynchronous nature of the medium that allows time to be used to make messages edited into acceptability or fester into insults? The sociometric fact that people are in direct contact with large numbers of people they do not otherwise know? The comparatively greater control one has over self-presentation and expression compared to FtF discussion? Is it the interaction of some of these factors that facilitates the good and the bad outcomes of online interaction, or is it an interaction

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between these factors and the proclivities and limitations of the individuals and communities who exploit them? Understanding quite how the Internet affects communication outcomes is a complex inquiry, and learning to employ the correct aspects with the best arrangements to promote brighter rather than darker relational and communication processes provides a stimulating, substantial challenge.

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5

Internet Matching Services: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (Disguised as Attractive) Susan Sprecher

INTRODUCTION People often enter romantic relationships without much planning or effort. They may fall in love with the girl or boy next door; the familiar and friendly co-worker becomes more than a co-worker; the casual “hook-up” develops into a meaningful relationship; or attraction develops for a friend of a friend, likely with the assistance and support of the friend. The entrance stage of relationships, however, sometimes involves considerable effort, planning, and searching, and can be motivated by an intense desire to be coupled. When the desire to be in a relationship is intense, and traditional channels for finding mates are unsuccessful, people may seek formal assistance to increase the likelihood that they find a suitable partner. Formal assistance may also be sought by those who are or could be successful in finding a partner in traditional settings, but who desire to cast a wide net and have a large pool of options. In the 1980s and 1990s, adults seeking third-party assistance for finding a mate may have crafted a personal ad and sent it to a local newspaper. Singles events and video-dating services also were options in some geographical locations (Woll & Cozby, 1987). Professional human matchmakers and mail-order brides existed long before modern time and continue to be commercial matching options (e.g., Ahuvia & Adelman, 1992; Constable, 2003; Gottlieb, 2006). In recent years, however, the most frequently sought

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commercial assistance for mate selection is Internet matching services. One estimate is that 16 million single adults in the United States have gone to a dating website to seek a partner and seven million adults have gone on a date with someone they met through an Internet dating site (Madden & Lenhart, 2006). Another estimate is that there are 40 million users of online dating websites (Mulrine, 2003). Popular Internet matching sites include Match, eHarmony, Yahoo!Personals, Perfectmatch, Matchmaker, and Chemistry. When a function once conducted primarily by individuals or their family and informal networks is taken over in part by formal, commercial venues, social critics often raise questions about the costs or the dark side of the social change. For example, when professional daycare became prevalent, questions were asked about the possible harm of having children in formal centers day after day, week after week, rather than at home or with a relative (for a review, see Belsky, 1990). As another example, when fast food restaurants such as McDonalds proliferated, social critics highlighted the harmful effects of the characteristics of fast food restaurants (e.g., quantity more important than quality, the excessive standardization), including that these characteristics were spreading to other areas of society (Ritzer, 1993). Furthermore, with the development of each new communication technology (e.g., telephone, Internet), social critics have discussed the evils of the technology (Katz & Aspden, 1997). Therefore, it is useful to address the question: Is there a dark side to having millions of single adults seeking mate selection assistance from Internet matching services? And, if there is a dark side to Internet matching services, is this offset by the benefits? The purpose of this chapter is not to present a social critical perspective to the topic, but rather to offer a scientific and balanced analysis of both the costs and the benefits of mate selection through Internet matching sites. This chapter focuses on mainstream matching services, whose raison d’être is to help singles find long-term partners (in addition to making a profit, of course). Not considered in this chapter are Internet sites that offer sexual hook-ups, opportunities for extramarital affairs, or other types of alliances— sites that many would argue have a much darker side and cost to society than the mainstream matching sites. I begin by presenting a brief history of computer and Internet matchmaking sites, including a description of the different types. In the second section, I discuss the methodological challenges of conducting research on Internet-initiated relationships. The third section presents a brief summary of the virtues of Internet matching. In the fourth section, I discuss what are commonly perceived to be the two greatest risks of seeking partners through Internet matchmaking: (1) the risk of being victimized, physically or emotionally; and (2) the related risk that the people one encounters are not what or who they say they are (i.e., deception).

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Then, I discuss two other potential, and less salient, costs of seeking partners through Internet services: (3) shallow relationships; and (4) opportunities foregone.

HISTORY AND TYPES OF MATCHING SERVICES AND HOW THEY WORK Although it is often assumed that computer matching began with the current Internet matching sites, in fact, the use of computer assistance in matching existed as early as the 1960s. A few students at Harvard University in the mid1960s have been credited with offering the first computer matching service. In “Operation Match” (described in Leonhardt, 2006), thousands of college students from several universities and colleges completed questionnaires describing themselves on physical attractiveness, intelligence, and other traits, and also indicated what traits they wanted in a partner. The data were entered on punch cards and the student entrepreneurs attempted to analyze the data with existing computer technology. Unfortunately, the computer (an Avco 1790 about the size of a small room) could not adequately and quickly process the questionnaire data, and the business failed. “Computer dates” were also conducted on university campuses in the 1960s and 1970s for academic research. Social psychologists who studied determinants of attraction used a variety of research methods including getacquainted interactions (e.g., Coombs & Kenkel, 1966; Walster, Aronson, Abrahams, & Rottman, 1966), which involved arranging for pairs of previously unacquainted individuals to interact and complete scientific surveys before and after their interaction. In some of these studies, a computer was used to assist with the matching, although the computer assistance was primarily limited to random matching of pairs from a pool of participants who had signed up for the study. Once high-speed Internet and personal computers were created, it was not long before the new generation of computer matching businesses was created. The first Internet matching site, Match.com, was launched in 1995. Match.com, as well as many other matching sites (e.g., Yahoo!Personals, American Singles), primarily offer a venue for online personal advertisements or profiles. The profile information typically contains a combination of responses to closed-ended questions (questions about age, height, body type, occupation, etc.) and open-ended responses (e.g., “In my own words”), and also allows the user to post a photograph or photographs and sometimes also videotapes. Search engines are available for the members to narrow their search to a particular gender, age group, and geographical area.

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While Match.com and other such sites offer primarily an electronic version of personal advertisements, another type of Internet matching service was launched with eHarmony.com in 2000, followed by Perfectmatch.com in 2002 and Chemistry.com in 2005. These three sites distinguish themselves from others by offering a “scientific approach” to matching. Members of these sites complete a lengthy questionnaire, which sites claim have “science” behind their construction (e.g., “Ph.D. designed”). “Matching algorithms,” also claimed to be guided by scientific principles, are used to sift through the data and match pairs (Orenstein, 2003). In addition, one or more Ph.D. scientists are hired as consultants to serve in various roles, including to develop or refine the scientific matching questionnaire and algorithms, acting as spokespersons for the site to the media, and offering advice on dating and relationships to the site’s members. At Perfectmatch.com, this person is currently Sociologist Pepper Schwartz from the University of Washington. The chief scientific advisor at Chemistry.com is biological anthropologist Helen Fisher from Rutgers University. eHarmony.com, however, has the largest investment in a science staff. Dr. Neil Clark Warren, a clinical psychologist who spent years counseling married couples, paired with Dr. Galen Buckwalter, a research professor, to create the first version of eHarmony’s matching questionnaire. Currently, eHarmony’s research team consists of several relationship scientists, including Gian Gonzaga. eHarmony also has a group of scientific academic advisors consisting of well-known social psychologists and relationship scientists: Thomas Bradbury, John Cacioppo, Bruce McEwen, and Linda Waite. Regardless of whether a person seeks a partner through the self-selection sites (Match) or the more scientific sites (e.g., eHarmony), the “matching process” often proceeds in the following way: If the online dating seeker is interested in someone (“Other”) based on the Other’s profile information and/or because the site listed the Other as a compatible match, he or she can send a sign of interest through the matching site. This might be a wink, happy face, or “spark,” depending on the particular website. The Other can then return a sign if also interested after reading the sender’s profile information. The next stage is to move to a form of two-way online communication, which is usually in a structured, anonymous format through the matching site. If both parties remain interested, the communication then advances to nonanonymous electronic communication, phone calls, and possibly to an initial, face-to-face interaction, usually in a public location. Of course, in many cases, the initial signs of interest offered by one person are not reciprocated by the other. Merkle and Richardson (2000), in a summary of computer-mediated romantic relationships, noted that many online relationships fade away before personal contact occurs, and many others end after a first meeting, often because the attraction experienced online does not transfer to a chemistry spark in face-to-face interactions.

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CAVEATS AND LIMITATIONS OF THE RESEARCH LITERATURE ON INTERNET MATCHING SERVICES There are not many published peer-review studies on the topic of Internet matching services or the outcomes of the relationships formed through matching services, and for three reasons. First, online matching services are still relatively new. Second, social scientists who study relational phenomena have been more interested in studying relationships that have a history and future than the very early stages of interactions between strangers that may or may not develop into a relationship (Sprecher, Wenzel, & Harvey, 2008). Therefore, there has not yet been a groundswell of research that focuses on relationship initiation at Internet matching sites, just as there has not been much research on relationship initiation that occurs in traditional contexts. In fact, most of the research on relationship formation at Internet sites is conducted by scholars in disciplines not typically associated with the study of relationships, fields such as Information Studies, Economics, Media Studies, and Technology. Third, data from matching sites that could be informative about factors that lead to early attraction or about the costs and benefits of Internet-initiated relationships are often proprietary and not always available to outside researchers. Furthermore, even if the sites wished to make data available for basic research, they have difficulty tracking the relationships that are formed once the partners leave the communication of the site and end their membership at the dating website. Therefore, to write this chapter and provide a full analysis of the costs and benefits of mate-seeking at Internet sites, I drew upon diverse sources, in addition to the small (but growing) published literature on Internet matchmaking. These additional sources of information include unpublished reports, media accounts, and information provided on the matching websites and on “watchdog” websites devoted to reviewing the dating sites. I also considered research conducted many years ago with users of the then popular commercial matching services—printed personal advertisements in newspapers and magazines, and video-dating services—for their insights concerning the costs and benefits more generally of using commercial matching services. The published research on relationship formation at Internet dating sites has been conducted with diverse samples and a variety of methods, ranging from in-depth interviews to national survey studies. Some research that will be summarized in this chapter has targeted the users of matching services. In a few of these studies, researchers have gained access to a sample of the site’s members from within the site (e.g., Albright, 2007), sometimes also including their profile information and the quantity and content of their communication with other members (e.g., Hitsch, Hortacsu, & Ariely, 2006). In

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other cases, the researchers advertise outside of the context of matching websites for online daters (e.g., Toma, Hancock, & Ellison, 2008). Other research that will be summarized in this chapter involves surveys or interviews conducted with national, community, or college samples who were not selected based on their use of matching sites but were asked questions about their attitudes and experiences with Internet dating. One such example is research done by the Pew Internet and American Life Project, a nonprofit research center that monitors the social effects of the Internet on Americans. In 2005, they conducted telephone interviews with a national representative sample of 3,215 adults, from ages 18 to over 65, about the topic of online dating (Madden & Lenhart, 2006). All of the respondents were asked about their attitudes about online dating, and a sub-sample of 204 users of online dating websites were also asked questions about their experiences with online dating. Although this chapter is about Internet matching services, research and popular discourse tend to focus on the phrase “online dating.” Online dating has become a common phrase due to media attention, and tends to be a homogenous concept to the general public. However, dating, in the traditional sense, rarely occurs online. Online dating refers more specifically to a variety of relationship initiating activities, including selecting a potential partner and having first contact with him or her online before the relationship migrates offline. These relationships are also sometimes referred to in the scientific literature as mixed-mode relationships (Walther, 1996; Walther & Parks, 2002), in which the two people can communicate both online and offline. Relationships that begin online originate, more specifically, in diverse contexts (e.g., McKenna, 2007, 2008; Whitty & Carr, 2006), including chatrooms, social network sites (e.g., Facebook), or through matching services (e.g., Match). However, only the latter is the focus of this chapter. Unfortunately, much of the survey research discussed in this chapter typically asks about online dating more generally without further defining it or distinguishing among different types. In addition, even the research that does further delineate online dating as meeting someone on an Internet matching site, generally does not distinguish between the sites that are primarily personal advertisements (e.g., Match) versus those that are based on scientific matching (e.g., eHarmony). However, there may be costs and benefits unique to each type.

THE VIRTUES OF INTERNET MATCHMAKING Before I discuss the dark side of Internet matchmaking, I provide a brief summary of the virtues of matching services (for further detail, see, for example, Ahuvia & Adelman, 1992; McKenna, 2008; Sprecher, Schwartz,

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Harvey, & Hatfield, 2008; Whitty & Carr, 2006). The advantages that have been noted include: • • •

•

•

• • •

There is the ability to meet people from outside one’s geographical proximity and day-to-day life. Because of a large base of eligible others, there is the ability to find a partner who might fit one’s ideal partner. Those who might be too shy to make romantic overtures in face-toface interactions may be more confident in computer-mediated communication. The scientific matching sites (e.g., eHarmony), where they pair people based on compatibility, may offer a degree of legitimacy to the match. The computer-mediated communication that occurs before face-toface meetings can allow two people to get to know each other at deeper levels of compatibility. As a third party assisting in the mating process, the service can always be available. People can find others who have similar, even specialized, interests. There is the ability to obtain a great deal of information about another person before meeting or considering dating.

I now turn to a discussion of costs and risks to Internet matching services and other forms of online dating.

IS IT DANGEROUS TO MEET SOMEONE THROUGH THE INTERNET? I begin a discussion of the potential costs of Internet matching sites by considering its darkest side. Is it dangerous? Anecdotal evidence from the mid-to-late 1990s, when Internet matching services first emerged, suggested that people were worried about the possibility of sexual predators using the Internet to prey on innocent victims. Because early media articles on online dating focused on this dark side of Internet dating, this was the first information many people received about Internet matching. Recent studies have assessed attitudes about online dating, and the concern that online dating can be dangerous remains. For example, in a study of college students’ attitudes about online relationship formation, Donn and Sherman (2002) found that participants expressed concern about their safety when meeting someone online. Another safety concern is about having one’s personal information online, which could potentially lead to various forms of victimization. In the Pew Internet and American Life Project national study examining the role of online dating in American

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romance, 66% of the sample who were Internet users agreed that online dating was dangerous because one’s personal information can become public (only 25% did not consider online dating to be at all dangerous). However, among those who reported using Internet matching sites, 52% did not see the activity as dangerous. Another question asked the participants’ views about how well dating websites protect people’s personal information. Among those who had used a major website, 38% thought it was good or excellent, and only 12% thought it had done a poor job. Although accounts of sexual predators on the Internet (e.g., Finkelhor, Mitchell, & Wolak, 2000) have received considerable media attention, it is unlikely that such incidences occur more frequently through online matching services than in other open-field contexts for meeting partners (e.g., singles bars). As noted many years ago by Shotland (1989), one type of date rape is called “beginning date rape,” where a man dates a woman with the intent to rape her, “realizing that such an action is less likely to be labeled as rape than would the action of raping a stranger on the street. Such a man may simply date the woman in order to isolate his victim” (p. 260). (Shotland contrasted this type of date rape with other types that occur after the relationship has developed, and that have other causal factors, including sexual miscommunication, peer pressure, and social comparisons.) Some men who are prone to commit early date rape may, today, turn to the Internet in an attempt to isolate female victims. For example, such men may post their information at a matching site and feign interest in a long-term relationship, and then use alcohol, persuasion, and possibly force to achieve the goal of a short-term sexual fling. Men who have such motives, however, are probably more likely to use the free dating sites than the major, scientific matching sites that have a monthly fee and the requirement to complete a long survey. Furthermore, just as women take precautions in initial dating encounters with those met in real-space so that they do not become a rape statistic, they take precautions when meeting partners through the Internet. Most Internet matching sites assist in safety issues by offering tips for safe interactions and dating, including to: Not post personal information, meet for the first few times in public locations, and stay sober. Some online dating sites, such as True.com, claim that they do background checks on members, and have tried to push legislation that would require all sites to do so. Additionally, watchdog websites have developed that review the dating sites on safety, provide safety tips for meeting dates, and offer steps for conducting one’s own background checks on potential matches. Although the dangers of sexual predatory behavior on Internet matching sites may be greater for women than for men, men too can become victims. For example, anecdotal accounts suggest that men are sometimes victims of female prostitutes posting information on dating sites in order to obtain

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business rather than a real relationship (Daniel, 2002; reported in Jerin & Dolinsky, 2007). Certain men who have stigmas (e.g., extreme shyness, disability, etc.) that have made it difficult for them to develop relationships in the real world may be especially vulnerable to this type of victimization. Another form of online predatory behavior that can occur to users of matching services, both males and females, has been referred to as cyberstalking (Glancy, Newman, Potash, & Tennison, 2007; Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007; Spitzberg & Hoobler, 2002), which is defined as “the use of the Internet, email, or other electronic common devices to stalk another person” (US Attorney General, 1999, p. 2, as reported in Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007, p. 137). In some such cases, the cyberstalker becomes obsessed with the other (the victim) and is in pursuit of the other’s attention and affection. Cupach and Spitzberg (2004) refer to obsessive relational intrusion as “repeated pursuit of intimacy with someone who does not want such attentions” (p. 3). This can occur when an ex-partner is reluctant to have the relationship end and tries to rekindle the relationship, but also commonly occurs at the initiation stage of the relationship (Cupach & Spitzberg, 2008). One person may want to develop the relationship, and the other (the rejecter) does not and then becomes subjected to persistence by the pursuer. “Research verifies that a substantial number of relationship initiations are unwanted, yet inappropriately persistent” (Cupach & Spitzberg, 2008, p. 419). The steps involved in relationship initiation on Internet matching systems can be conducive to forms of obsessive relational intrusion, such as surveillance and hyperintimacy (Cupach & Spitzberg, 2004). For example, the pursuer can unobtrusively engage in surveillance of the target of unrequited affection by returning many times to his or her profile information. In addition, the pursuer can engage in hyperintimacy, by sending inappropriate expressions of desire and doing this over and over again, even though the other has made it clear that a relationship is not desired. Romantic persistence may be easy to accomplish in computer-mediated communication (CMC) because it can promote intimacy and disclosure, and allows for easy access to others. Of course, if the “cyberstalker” does not know the identity or contact information of his or her target of affection outside of the anonymous communication system of the matching site, there is a limit to the degree of the unwanted pursuit. In addition, most sites allow users to block messages from an unwanted source. In sum, the possibility of sexual predatory behavior is a very dark side of online dating that has little in the way of a silver lining. The cost is great to the victim and to society. Fortunately, however, with cautionary behavior, it is rare. For example, in one study (Jerin & Dolinsky, 2007), experienced female Internet daters reported that they viewed the risk of being victimized as a result of online dating to be minimal. Nonmutuality in desire to initiate a relationship is more common, and therefore becoming an unwanted target

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of someone’s attention can occur online, just as it does offline. Although unwanted attention can be annoying and problematic, it often does not lead to danger and does not generally last (Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007), although clearly more research is needed to examine how it is manifested in online interactions.

DO PEOPLE MISREPRESENT THEMSELVES? Another commonly expressed concern about meeting partners through Internet matching sites is that people are not telling the truth about themselves. In fact, the public perception is that there is a high level of deception online (e.g., Donn & Sherman, 2002; Madden & Lenhart, 2006). Deception, regardless of the context, is considered a dark side of relationships (Knapp, 2006; O’Hair & Cody, 1994). Not surprising, people value honesty/trustworthiness as one of the most desirable traits for a partner to have (Stewart, Stinnett, & Rosenfeld, 2000), including in online matches (Albright, 2007; Whitty & Gavin, 2001). When online daters discover that their date misrepresented themselves in their profile information, disappointment is common (Ellison, Heino, & Gibbs, 2006). Below I discuss two types of misrepresentation that can occur at Internet matching sites, the first of which represents a very dark side of human interaction.

Lies to Victimize One type of misrepresentation at matching sites not only thwarts the possibility of a real relationship transitioning offline and therefore leads to disappointment and dashed hopes, but can also lead to various types of victimization. People can lie about basic personal information, such as their gender, their income or employment, their age by decades (e.g., a 60-year-old man presenting himself as a young adult), their marital status, and/or their relationship intent (e.g., saying that they want a long-term relationship, when they just want a sexual fling). They could engage in these forms of deception for many reasons, ranging from boredom and the desire to experiment with different persona online without regard to consequences for others, to the desire to victimize or take advantage of others, including their emotions. Consider a warning from a newspaper article on Valentine’s Day from many years ago (reported in Madden & Lenhart, 2006, p. 2): But be warned, cyberdaters. You might find yourself having an erotic chat with someone named Bambi4You, who is really a man pretending to be a woman.

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[O]f course, you could be a woman pretending to be a man, or a man who is looking for a cross-dresser . . . the combinations are numerous.

Generally, these striking deceptions are not possible to continue in offline interactions and therefore are unlikely among those serious about seeking mates at the matching services. Even among those who engage in casual interactions at other types of Internet sites, only about 5% are estimated to change their gender online (Cooper, Delmonico, & Burg, 2000). However, some people can and do misrepresent their marital or relationship status (i.e., claiming to be single when actually married) in online interaction. In addition, because of the ease of contacting (simultaneously) several partners online and because potential partners are segregated from each other and rarely have shared social networks, it can be fairly easy for a person to pursue multiple online relationships. Albright (2007) described an extreme case of a military officer who had been “dating online” 50 women simultaneously and was also married to another woman (described in Kleinfeld, 2003). The more common type of deception about relationship status occurs when a user is exploring romantic computer-mediated communication with more than one dating site member at the same time, although is not honest about doing so. Data collected from Albright (2007), from 4,726 subscribers of a large Internet matchmaking site, suggests that this may be common. As part of the survey, respondents were asked to indicate how often the following had occurred to them (ranging from “never” to “constantly”): “People who I have met online have said they were dating only me when they were also involved with someone else.” Thirty-nine percent reported it was constantly happening to them, and another 19% reported it either occasionally happened or frequently happened.

Socially Acceptable Lies A second type of misrepresentation at Internet matching sites is much more common and probably inherent to most forms of early-stage courtship (e.g., Boon & McCloud, 2001; Rowatt, Cunningham, & Druen, 1998). People selfpresent in a positive way in order to obtain a desirable partner, which can include embellishing one’s characteristics and feigning certain interests. In many contexts, but especially in the initial stage of romantic contexts, a tension exists between the desire to be honest and authentic and the desire to present oneself strategically in order to achieve a good impression on others (Swann, De La Ronde, & Hixon, 1994; Whitty, 2007). The probability of misrepresentation in online matching may be greater than in real-space interactions for two reasons:

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(1) people are forced to provide descriptors of themselves (e.g., political views, age, weight, income), information that in face-to-face contexts for becoming acquainted either may not come up in discussion or may be revealed slowly over time; and (2) the initial communication between individuals is through computermediated communication (CMC), which has features that make it easy to be deceptive. These two issues are discussed further below.

Misrepresentation in Profile Information and Survey Responses. Are people honest when they describe their characteristics in a profile or when they answer questions to a survey they know will be subjected to matching algorithms? Most research that has examined this issue has relied on selfreport data, asking online daters how honest they are in information they provide, or how honest they perceive others to be, whose profiles they have viewed and who they subsequently meet in person. In her study of users of a large Internet matchmaking service, Albright (2007) asked the participants if they had ever lied to a date in order to make them like them. She reported that 99% of the respondents reported “never” or “seldom.” In addition, to a question that asked if they had lied to someone online in order to appear more attractive, a large majority (98%) reported never or seldom. However, they were more likely to agree that others who they had met online had lied (36% reported occasionally, frequently, or constantly). A qualitative study by Ellison et al. (2006), however, demonstrates that a socially acceptable type of misrepresentation does occur in profile information, but often is not labeled as deception. The researchers phoneinterviewed a sample of 34 online daters from a large (unnamed) online dating service. Almost all of the participants reported that their profiles were “accurate.” However, the in-depth interviews indicated that socially acceptable forms of misrepresentation had occurred as members engaged in various strategies to manage the tension between strategically presenting a favorable self that would attract matches and presenting their authentic self. Ellison et al. (2006) described some individuals as creating profiles that referred to a future ideal self, rather than an actual self. For example, two of the interviewees said they described themselves as less heavy than they actually were and used this “ideal” presentation of self as a way to lose weight prior to meeting a date. Some of those interviewed also referred to meeting others who claimed in their profile to be active in certain leisure pursuits (e.g., surfing), but turned out only liked the activity and had not engaged in it for years. Generally, however, the participants did not view presenting a future

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ideal self in a profile as deceptive but rather as “portraying personal qualities they intended to develop or enhance” (p. 11). A second explanation that emerged in the interviews for a socially acceptable misrepresentation in profiles was to overcome the limitations of the structure of search filters and the closed-ended questions linked to the search filters. The participants seemed very aware that their answers to certain questions (e.g., age, income, body type) would be used by others to either filter them in or filter them out of a pool of matches. In some cases, users tried to circumvent the structure of the search filters by providing an answer that they thought would keep them filtered in for those to whom they would be attracted. “For example, participants tended to misrepresent their age for fear of being ‘filtered out.’ It was not unusual for users who were one or two years older than a natural breakpoint (i.e., 35 or 50) to adjust their age so they would still show up in search results” (pp. 11–12). Participants in the Ellison et al. (2006) study discussed how it was common and socially acceptable (i.e., normative) to misrepresent one’s age in profiles and/or post a photograph taken years earlier. Because users believed everyone else was doing it, they assumed it was necessary for them also to do so or otherwise be at a disadvantage. For example, one person interviewed said (p. 12): I’m such an honest guy, why should I want to lie about my age? On the other hand, if I put X number of years, that is unattractive to certain people. They’re never going to search that group and they’re never going to have an opportunity to meet me, because they have a number in their mind just like I do . . . Everyone lies about their age or a lot of people do . . . So I have to cheat in order to be on the same page as everybody else that cheats. If I don’t cheat that makes me seem twice as old. So if I say I am 44, people think that I am 48. It blows. Real Sweetheart, Bay Area Male

Interestingly, participants mentioned that it was also common for those who engaged in slight misrepresentation in their profile to reveal this in early correspondence and correct the information. This may have also made the misrepresentation more socially acceptable. A third type of misrepresentation identified by those interviewed by Ellison et al. (2006) was due to the limitations of self-knowledge. The researchers called this the phenomenon of foggy mirror, and described it as “the gap between self-perceptions and the assessments made by others” (p. 13). Therefore, people might describe themselves in a particular way in their profiles, attempting to be honest about how they see themselves, but their views may not correspond with how others see them. A related issue is that users may be asked to answer questions on the matching surveys for which they have no self-knowledge. Consider, for example, a question asked in the Chemistry.com survey: “To what degree are you a performer, a guardian, a healer or an inventor?”

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Although the in-depth interviews conducted by Ellison et al. (2006) reveal a certain degree of socially acceptable, strategic embellishment, self-report data consistently show that people believe they are generally honest in their profiles and communication (e.g., Albright, 2007). Self-report data, however, may be susceptible to socially desirable responses, particularly about an issue such as the veracity of one’s personal information. More objective evidence, however, indicates that there is likely to be at least minor misrepresentation in the profile information. Hitsch et al. (2006) analyzed the profiles of 22,000 users at a dating website and compared the data presented in the profile with data of national averages for the same characteristics. Men and women at the dating sites were slightly taller than the national averages (1.3 inches for men and 1 inch for women). Women reported weighing from 6 pounds less (the 20–29 year old group) to 20 pounds less (the 40–49 year old age group) than the national averages. Most people in their profiles reported themselves to be above average in looks; only 30% of the users reported themselves to be average in looks, and a mere 1% said they were “less than average.” While Hitsch et al. (2006) compared online profile information from a sample of users with data from national samples (not the same people), Toma et al. (2008) conducted a study in which they recruited a sample of 80 online daters from New York City (through a weekly newsletter and Craigslist) and compared what they had posted in their online profiles with objective data obtained from them after they arrived at a university laboratory setting. The participants, upon arrival for the study, were first presented with a printed copy of their online dating profile (downloaded from the site) and asked to indicate the accuracy of several profile items (attributes about physical appearance, social status, relationship history, habits and interests, beliefs, and age). On a five-point scale (1 = least accurate; 5 = most accurate), the mean response was 4.75 across the attributes, which indicated a high degree of self-reported accuracy. Participants reported being most accurate about relationship information, that is, their relationship status and whether they had children. In examining degree of deception in the profile information more objectively, the researchers used a measuring tape and a weight scale, and also examined age as recorded on the driver’s license. Deception was operationalized by a half-inch discrepancy in height, more than five pounds in weight, and any age difference from the actual age. Eighty-one percent of the participants deviated on at least one of the three attributes. Weight was most likely to be lied about (two-thirds did so), then height (50% of the participants) and the least amount of deception was found for age.1 Although there were no gender differences in the likelihood of deception or in self-reported accuracy, men tended to overestimate their height and women tended to underestimate weight. Generally, the degree of deception was small and, as noted by the researchers, would be difficult to detect face-to-face. Nonetheless, there were a few extreme lies: 3 inches taller

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than actual height, 35 pounds heavier and 20 pounds lighter than actual weight, and 11 years older than actual age. The authors wrote: These rare but extreme lies would be highly salient and memorable when encountered. This may be one reason why people believe lying is rampant in online dating profiles, especially because these extreme lies are more likely to be circulated and discussed among the online dating community. (Toma et al., 2008, p. 1032)

Misrepresentation in Initial Online Communication. Strategic and controlled self-presentation that involves embellishment and outright deception can continue in the CMC that occurs in the get-acquainted process after two people express interest in getting to know each other based on profile information. The hyperpersonal model (Walther, 1996; see Chapter 4, this volume), which focuses on relationship development in online contexts, argues that misrepresentation on CMC is of concern because of the greater control (relative to that in face-to-face communication) that one can have over self-presentation and because of the asynchronous nature of CMC, which includes self-censorship. In addition, the communication occurs away from the monitoring of any shared social network members. On the positive side, however, people may be able to better present their “real self” online and disclose openly and fully (Bargh, McKenna, & Fitzsimons, 2002). In addition, Internet matching sites differ from other online venues (e.g., chatrooms) that include CMC because there is a high anticipation of future face-to-face interaction. Therefore, those who join a matching website with the intent to find a mate would be unlikely to engage in excessive deception or exaggerated self-descriptions, because of the risk that it presents later in face-to-face interaction (Gibbs, Ellison, & Heino, 2006). In sum, a major concern about online mate-seeking, reflecting a dark side of human interaction, is that there is excessive misrepresentation and deception. Among those serious about using the mainstream matching services to find a partner, however, the deception appears to be minimal or used “sparingly” (Toma et al., 2008), often in response to the constraints of the filtering systems. In addition, the embellishment that may occur in presenting oneself to attract a partner is probably no greater than in face-toface interactions. Evidence was found for this in the study by Albright (2007), conducted with subscribers of a large Internet matchmaking service. As part of the survey, the participants were asked to compare the character/honesty of potential romantic partners they had met online with those they had met offline. Forty-three percent rated them about the same, 40% rated online romantic partners as having better character and honesty than those they had met offline, and only 7% rated the online potential romantic partners as worse on character/honesty than those they met offline.

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ARE THE RELATIONSHIPS FORMED SHALLOW? Mate-seeking, regardless of the context, has long been described, by both economists (Becker, 1973) and social psychologists (e.g., Hatfield & Sprecher, 2009), as a “market,” with consideration of supply and demand that involves actors exchanging economic and interpersonal assets. Commercial dating services, such as Internet matching, probably make the assets and the exchange more explicit than would be the case in face-to-face interactions (Ahuvia & Adelman, 1992). Therefore, a criticism of Internet matching, as well as other commercial intermediaries for matching (e.g., speed dating, personal advertisements), is that potential romantic partners are treated as commodities and the relationships formed are shallow. For example, Ahuvia, Adelman, and Izberk-Bilgin (2009) indicated that a criticism of Internet matching and other commercial means is that they represent a “McDonaldizing” of romance that is “systematizing, rationalizing, and rendering into a calculative mate quest what is supposed to be a magical process” (p. 239). Relationships that begin online but move offline and develop into exclusive, intimate relationships are likely to be as deep and meaningful as those that have their origin in traditional contexts. In fact, if we can believe matching websites’ advertisements (e.g., eHarmony), the relationships that begin at the scientific matching sites are based on “deep compatibility” and could possibly have greater happiness and a lower likelihood of divorce than those relationships that are formed in other contexts. Some preliminary evidence, in fact, suggests that relationships formed through eHarmony have higher quality than those formed offline (Carter & Snow, 2004). The searching and selection process prior to the formation of relationships, however, has been described as a transaction with each person possessing a market value and being reduced to commodities. For example, a 37-year-old male interviewed by Lawson and Leck (2006, p. 195), in a study of the dynamics of Internet dating, described online dating in this way: The Internet is a place where people can take risks without consequences. You can experiment with people you wouldn’t normally meet or get involved with. You can grocery shop. There are more people to meet. You can play games for a long time. You can look at so many pictures; it’s fun like a candy store.

The transactions involved in online mate selection were evidenced in research by Hitsch et al. (2006), who studied the online matching process including the tradeoffs between physical appearance and money. They analyzed data collected from thousands of users of a major online dating service in two major cities, which included members’ self-descriptions and the photos that they posted. They also acquired data on which profiles members

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browsed and who was contacted after the browsing. From this mountain of data, they identified the types of attributes people have (or at least advertise they have) that are associated with the likelihood of being contacted. These included posting a photograph, being attractive in the photograph, height (for men only), and income (especially for men). They also used economic modeling to estimate how much a particular person with a negative trait or deficiency would need to make up on a positive trait in order for there to be a “tradeoff” desirable to others. For example, they estimated that unattractive men or exceptionally short men would need to make $100,000 to $200,000 more than attractive and tall men in order to compensate. They determined, however, that poor looks in women cannot be made up for by more income because men are not as attracted to income in women as women are to income in men. In sum, the criticism that Internet matching sites may make the marketplace phenomenon of dating and mating more salient is probably legitimate. The explicitness of the market value of individuals may be particularly evidenced in sites that focus on online personal advertisements, in which participants must emphasize their assets in a few sentences in order to appeal to potential partners. The matching sites that rely on scientific matching based on answers to questions about personality characteristics and leisure pursuits diminish somewhat the significance of market features in the set of match options presented to users. Nonetheless, the users may still use physical attractiveness as the primary basis for selection from among these matches.

OPPORTUNITIES FOREGONE In economic terms, any activity engaged in or any relationship pursued has the cost of opportunities foregone. If people spend considerable time seeking partners online, they have less time to engage in offline or real-space interactions, interactions that could also lead to the formation of romantic relationships. The time that is invested in searching for a partner at Internet matching services can also reduce the time available for interaction with family and friends, who not only can introduce people to potential romantic partners but can also can provide alternative sources of intimacy and social support (Schmeeckle & Sprecher, 2004; Sprecher, Felmlee, Orbuch, & Willetts, 2002). Are the benefits gained from the time invested in seeking a partner through matching services enough to offset the costs of opportunities foregone from real-space interactions? For the lucky ones who form a lasting and happy relationship with someone whom they meet through a matching service, the benefit no doubt outweighs the time investment. However, many people spend an inordinate amount of time seeking a partner through

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Internet matching sites without obtaining the relationship they desire. In a report for consumers of dating sites, Thompson, Zimbardo, and Hutchinson (2005) cautioned consumers about overpromises from the Internet dating sites (see also, Houran & Lange, 2004; Houran, Lange, Rentfrow, & Bruckner, 2004). Thompson et al. used statistics offered at major dating websites to calculate the odds of finding a marriage partner. While the absolute number of successful matches advertised in the press releases may seem impressive (for example, the eHarmony Press Release in June 2006 indicated that “over 90 singles marry every day on average at eHarmony”), Thompson et al. (2005) compared the number of marriages with the number of users eHarmony claimed to have and with their estimated number of paid subscribers. Using these comparisons, Thompson et al. concluded that only a very small percentage of eHarmony subscribers (1.5%) and an even smaller number of users (1 in 499) were successful in finding a partner. Some of their conclusions and projections were: When eHarmony recommends someone as a compatible match, there is a 1 in 500 chance that you’ll marry this person. (p. 2) If you went on a date with a new person every night for 346 days, you’d only have a 50/50 chance of marrying one of them along the way. (p. 2) our research found that only 1 in 5 who subscribed to a site, met someone they dated for at least 2 months. (p. 8)

Of course, it is impossible to have accurate data on the number of matches formed at the Internet matching services (many more matches could have occurred, but the couples may not have notified the sites) and, in addition, many other types of happy and long-term relationships form out of Internet matches, even though the relationships do not result in marriage. In addition, even if members do not find a long-term partner, they may have a good time in the pursuit. Or do they? The answer, based on a limited amount of research, suggests maybe not. Frost, Chance, Norton, and Ariely (2008, Study 1) posted a survey on an online dating website, and asked the 132 online dating respondents several questions about the time they spent on various phases of online dating (searching profiles, communicating over email, and face-to-face meetings) and also assessed how much they enjoyed online dating. As a comparison, the researchers also asked the participants how much they enjoyed offline dating and watching movies. Participants reported an average of 5.2 hours per week searching through profiles, an average of 6.7 hours writing and responding

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to emails, and an average of 1.8 hours in offline interactions.2 On a scale that ranged from 1 (not at all) to 10 (very much), the mean score was at the midpoint, 5.5, for the question asking about enjoyment of online dating. Participants enjoyed offline dating more than online dating (mean = 7.00), but enjoyed movies most of all (mean = 7.8). The researchers wrote: “Sadly . . . most participants were so dissatisfied with both [online and offline dating] they would have preferred to stay home or watch a movie” (p. 56). The researchers argued that the dissatisfaction occurs because of the considerable time and effort that is invested in searching that does not result often enough in the rewards of a match. Not only do people who spend a lot of time (sometimes unsuccessfully) searching for a partner on Internet matching services have opportunity costs in regard to face-to-face relationships, they may also experience opportunities foregone in terms of alternative (better) online matches. That is, there can be a large investment of time in CMC with a potential match prior to the first face-to-face meeting, only to have such relationships end after the first meeting due to lack of physical attraction. This can be the downside of the “inverted development sequence” (e.g., Merkle & Richardson, 2000) that has been used to describe the process of online attraction. In comparison to the attraction process in face-to-face relationships, where attraction is likely to be first influenced by proximity and physical attractiveness, and then by the discovery of similarity and self-disclosure, Internet-initiated relationships sometimes first involve a high level of mutual and intense self-disclosure and a minimal role for physical attractiveness and proximity (see Cooper & Sportolari, 1997; McKenna, 2007, 2008). The advantage of the inverted development sequence of attraction is that two people can get to know each other at a deeper level of compatibility before physical appearance becomes salient. To the degree that chemistry and physical attraction in face-to-face interactions are “deal-breakers” for one or both partners, the relationship can abruptly end after the first meeting, despite an investment of weeks in online communication. Although the exchange of photographs and even the use of video-chatting can assist in the pre-meeting assessment of “chemistry,” it cannot take the place of actual face-to-face assessments. A relationship may end after a first face-to-face meeting not only because of lack of chemistry, but also because of unrealistic expectations prior to the initial face-to-face meeting. One cost of having extensive information about the other prior to a face-to-face meeting, through profile information and discussion in CMC, is that expectations for similarity and compatibility can be artificially inflated, which can result in disappointment when the other does not live up to expectations. The advertisements at some matching sites (e.g., “you can find the love of your life,” “your soulmate”) may also contribute to dashed expectations (Thompson et al., 2005). Norton, Frost, and Ariely (2007) suggest that online dating, particularly in the venue that relies on

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members reading extensive profile information prior to interaction, may lead to high pre-meeting expectations for similarity that inevitably result in dissatisfaction when the two meet and discover that they are not as similar as they thought. The researchers refer to this as the cascading nature of dissimilarity. There is also the tendency to idealize the potential partner in the pre-meeting period (Levine, 2000). Levine (2000), an observer of online dating services, recommends that people meet within one month because “people who let attraction build online for long periods of time often have falsely raised expectations, leading to proportional disappointments” (p. 570). In sum, a cost of any activity or relationship in which considerable time is invested is the opportunities foregone. Those who are in the process of actively searching for matches and hopeful of finding a soulmate on the Internet are probably not focused on this potential cost. However, their network members and they themselves later, if they eventually give up the quest, may wonder whether all of the time invested was worth it.

CONCLUSIONS According to data collected by the Harris Interactive research firm in January of 2006 (Harris Interactive Press Release, Feb. 9, 2006), based on a nationwide survey of 2,985 adults, 3% of committed relationships originated in online dating services and another 3% began in online chatrooms. Most of the sample, however, reported meeting their current partner in more traditional contexts, such as through work, school, and friends. Although relationships that originate through Internet matching sites may never become a large proportion of all relationships, this way of meeting partners is becoming more mainstream. This chapter began with a brief overview of the advantages of Internet matching. Because the objective was to examine the dark side, the major focus was on a discussion of the risks and costs that have been associated with Internet matching. It is important to note, however, that risks and costs could easily be written about any particular context for meeting partners, ranging from work settings to singles bars; and even about the decision not to seek a partner (see Chapter 15, this volume). That is, Internet matching services are not unique in having both advantages and disadvantages as a context in which to meet partners. In fact, from a cost–benefit analysis, Internet sites may fare better than many other contexts for meeting others. Furthermore, people often are using more than one method to find a partner. Most singles who are serious about finding a match are likely to be simultaneously searching in multiple contexts, including in real-space settings (through friends, work, social gatherings, the local pub) and through

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the Internet (social network sites, matching services). In fact, people today have more methods available to them for finding a partner than ever before. In their searching efforts across diverse contexts, most people are likely to be rational and self-protective. They are not likely to relentlessly pursue Internet matching services, and pay the monthly fee (up to $60) unless the rewards of doing so far outweigh the costs, including in opportunities foregone. Of course, entrapment can occur, in which an initial investment of time and money leads to persistence and continuing hope of success. If we consider the data that show that people have greater well-being, happiness, and health when they have close personal relationships and receive social support (e.g., Parks, 2007; cf. Chapter 15, this volume), any relationship-oriented commercial service—whether it is a web-based marriage enrichment program, a local bar’s Saturday night speed-dating event, or an Internet matchmaking service—has the potential to offer more benefits than costs. Even casual CMC interaction between people who embellish their characteristics and treat each other too much like commodities may still be valued, fun, interesting, and keep loneliness and boredom at bay.

NOTES 1 However, their sample was relatively young; deception about age would likely be greater for an older sample, as noted by the authors. 2 Thompson et al. (2005), however, estimated that the average subscriber spent an average of three hours per week on matching sites. Therefore, the participants in the Frost et al. study may have been exceptionally heavy users.

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Affectionate Communication is Good, Except When it Isn’t: On the Dark Side of Expressing Affection Kory Floyd and Perry M. Pauley

Affection, like melancholy, magnifies trifles; but the magnifying of the one is like looking through a telescope at heavenly objects; that of the other, like enlarging monsters with a microscope. Leigh Hunt

Love and affection have spurred the imaginations of painters, poets, sculptors, and writers throughout the history of humanity. In their works, artists have explored the complex and curious nature of love, capturing moments of both agony and ecstasy. As their creations suggest, the intrigue of love can captivate the imagination. It is not difficult to see why. An unexpected phone call from a romantic partner, a card or note from a family member, or a chance encounter with an old friend each has the potential to rouse the spirit and elevate the mood. Although many aspects of affection are positive and desirable, affectionate communication can also go awry. Newlyweds are often dismayed to find that the endearing idiosyncrasies of their new spouse quickly become irritating habits that drive a wedge between them. Likewise, college students inevitably find that the devotion of their parents can easily become an overbearing and possibly constraining interference in their social or personal lives. Although many of the outcomes of affection are good, affection can be risky for both senders and receivers,

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and sometimes expressions of affection lead to confusing and complicated turns of events. As Hunt’s quote suggests, affection enables us to become closer to people we care about, but this closeness often has a way of magnifying the tiny monsters that lurk within us all. Our goal in this chapter is to explore this paradox of affectionate communication. When the expression of affection is appropriate and desired, affection brings feelings of warmth, intimacy, and security, promoting mental and physical health. When affectionate expression is unwelcome or misunderstood, however, it is accompanied by feelings of confusion, frustration, and in some extreme cases, fear. To illustrate this paradox, we start by exploring some of the benefits affectionate communication can elicit. Next, we review the principal theories that help to explain why affectionate behavior is sometimes problematic. From there, we articulate how affectionate expression can potentially be negative for both senders and receivers. Finally, we conclude with some remaining questions and ideas for future research.

EXPLAINING THE PARADOX OF AFFECTIONATE COMMUNICATION Before we examine in detail how affectionate communication elicits both positive and negative outcomes, it is instructive to consider why it might. Theories used in the study of affectionate behavior have reflected one of two meta-theoretic traditions. The bioevolutionary approach suggests that heritable tendencies toward particular behaviors are grounded in the adaptive advantages those behaviors would have conferred on premodern ancestors and in how those advantages are currently manifested in human physiological systems. Specifically, propensities for behaviors that increased the chances for survival and/or procreation, if they are even partially heritable, are considered adaptive. By contrast, the sociocultural approach focuses on how behaviors and their meanings are prescribed within social and cultural systems and on the ways in which those behaviors are taught and reinforced. As theoretic traditions, the bioevolutionary and sociocultural approaches are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Rather, they often simply explain behaviors at different levels of abstraction; whereas sociocultural theories identify the causes of behaviors in current social or cultural systems, bioevolutionary theories consider why the tendencies for such behaviors would have evolved over millennia. To understand the paradox of affectionate behavior, let us briefly consider how theories from both approaches might explain why affectionate communication can produce positive outcomes and why it can produce negative outcomes.

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Why Affectionate Communication is Positive Evidence for the benefits of affectionate communication is so voluminous and compelling, encompassing far more research than space will permit us to describe in this chapter, that asking why it is beneficial may seem superfluous. Even if an answer seems evident, however, following different theoretic explanations leads researchers to look at a phenomenon in different ways, and that has been the case for affectionate communication. Among bioevolutionary theories, the one most commonly tested in affection research is Floyd’s (2006a) affection exchange theory (AET). AET is a neo-Darwinian theory, meaning that it includes as axiomatic assumptions the foundational principles of Darwin’s (1859) theory of evolution by means of natural selection. Specifically, Floyd (2006a) argues that the process of engaging in affectionate interaction is adaptive insofar as it enhances the ability of individuals to survive and procreate. AET reasons that if affectionate communication is adaptive in these ways, then physiological systems exist to make it physically and emotionally rewarding. Indeed, as we describe below, experimental research has documented that elevations in the hormone oxytocin and reductions in the hormone cortisol occur in the wake of affectionate behavior and are largely responsible for the physical and emotional rewards that accompany it. AET would therefore predict that affectionate behavior produces positive outcomes because of the physiological activity it induces, but that it induces specific physiological activity because of the adaptive benefits affectionate behavior conveys. Two other bioevolutionary theories offer similar but slightly divergent explanations for the benefits of affectionate behavior. Baumeister and Leary’s (1995) need to belong theory (NBT) argues that close affectionate relationships are so fundamental a human need that failing to form and maintain them is physically and psychologically aversive. Importantly, NBT provides that, to satisfy their need to belong, people require not just the emotion of affection but also the expression of it. From this perspective, relationships are unsatisfactory if they provide affectionate feelings in the absence of affectionate interaction (as in a long-distance marriage) or if they provide affectionate interaction in the absence of affectionate feelings (as in an anonymous sexual encounter). According to NBT, affectionate behavior is positive because it meets a fundamental drive for affiliation and attachment. Taylor et al.’s (2000) tend-and-befriend theory (TBT) proposes that expressing feelings of care to loved ones, and receiving such expressions in return, benefits people in times of acute stress by accelerating their physiological recovery from stress. TBT further proposes that the stress-alleviating benefit of affectionate behavior is more pronounced for women than for men because it is driven by the hormone oxytocin, which is more active in women than in men.

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Some sociocultural theories would also offer explanations for the benefits of affectionate communication, even though none was constructed specifically for that purpose. If one conceives of an affectionate gesture as a resource, for instance, then social exchange theory (SET: Thibaut & Kelley, 1959) would propose that affectionate behavior produces positive outcomes when and if one’s receipt of affectionate expressions exceeds what one would expect to receive in an alternate relationship. Burgoon’s expectancy violations theory (EVT: Burgoon, 1993) would offer that people have predictive expectancies for how much affection they should receive in their relationships, and in what form. When one receives more affection, or more intense affection, than one expects, EVT proposes that one will perceive the behavior as a positive expectancy violation if the affection is communicated in an appropriate way and in an appropriate context. Similarly, Andersen’s cognitive valence theory (CVT: Andersen, Guerrero, Buller, & Jorgensen, 1998) proposes that relational partners naturally develop a comfortable and acceptable pattern of affectionate interaction. When one partner engages in levels of affectionate behavior that exceed normally accepted standards, the behavior evokes arousal in the partner. If the receiver’s arousal is moderate, he or she evaluates the valence of the deviation on the basis of six criteria: Cultural norms for the behavior, existing relational patterns, interpersonal schemata (based on the violator’s reward potential), situational appropriateness, receiver’s physiological state, and receiver’s personality traits. According to CVT, behaviors that deviate from existing relational norms are valenced positively if all six of these criteria are evaluated positively.

Why Affectionate Communication is Negative Understanding some of the reasons why affectionate behavior might be positive allows us also to address the question of why it might be negative. Again, bioevolutionary and sociocultural theories offer divergent, but not necessarily contradictory, explanations. Perhaps the most specific explanation for why affectionate communication can produce negative outcomes is provided by AET. According to AET, insofar as affectionate behavior can enhance one’s success at survival and especially at reproduction, it can also inhibit those goals under particular circumstances. In such cases, the theory predicts negative physical and psychological outcomes, not positive. For example, AET explains that many heterosexual people would have a physiological stress response to receiving a romantic overture from a samesex other, because the type of affection being offered would not support the receiver’s superordinate reproductive goal. Receivers are similarly distressed when they perceive senders are attempting to manipulate them through affectionate behavior, because the sender’s efforts, if successful, can lead to

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the depletion of the receiver’s resources (time, commitment, money), reducing the resources available for the receiver’s own needs. Whereas TBT speaks only to the benefits of affectionate behavior (and only in situations of acute stress), NBT provides that the expression of affection will produce negative outcomes when it is unaccompanied by genuine affectionate feelings, because such a situation will fail to satisfy the fundamental need to belong. NBT would expect such an effect to manifest over time, not necessarily in immediate response to the gesture of “empty” affection, but the important observation is that the empty gesture is not only unbeneficial, but actually detrimental, because of the importance of the need to belong. Sociocultural theories offer their own explanations for why affectionate behavior might produce negative effects. According to EVT, affectionate communication can elicit negative evaluations and negative behavioral responses if it qualifies as a negative expectancy violation. A negative expectancy violation comprises any behavior considered to be less desirable or less appropriate than whatever behavior was expected. For instance, a marriage proposal might be judged as desirable and appropriate after two partners have spent sufficient time together, and would therefore be received as an expectancy confirmation or even a positive violation. The same proposal made too early in the trajectory of relational development, however, would likely be judged as inappropriate (and perhaps even undesirable), qualifying it as a negative violation. According to EVT, experiencing a negative expectancy violation causes one to evaluate the enactor of that violation in negative ways and to respond negatively to the behavior, even if (as in the case of affectionate communication) the same behavior would be judged very positively in other circumstances. As we explain later in the chapter, politeness theory (PT: Brown & Levinson, 1987) provides that some behaviors threaten a receiver’s needs for acceptance and approval (known as positive face) and/or the receiver’s needs for autonomy and freedom from imposition (known as negative face). Although affectionate behavior can certainly affirm a receiver’s positive face need by conveying messages of love and approval, we will describe several situations later in the chapter in which affectionate behavior can threaten both positive and negative face needs for receivers. When it does so, PT would predict negative outcomes to arise out of the face threats the receiver experiences. The bioevolutionary and sociocultural theories described here are not the only ones that can speak to the positive and negative outcomes of affectionate behavior, but they are among those most commonly tested in research on those topics. As we will explain in the next section, affectionate communication has a light side in that it often has positive effects on the relationships and the health of those who exchange it. In subsequent sections, however, we will visit the dark side of affectionate behavior by examining its risks to senders and its potential problems for receivers.

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THE LIGHT SIDE OF AFFECTIONATE COMMUNICATION One of the primary applications of AET (Floyd, 2006a) has been the study of benefits derived from affectionate communication. These studies have examined the positive outcomes of affection in three primary domains: Those related to social and relational health, those related to mental health, and those related to stress. This section will briefly examine the benefits of affectionate communication that have been revealed in studies of AET.

Relational Benefits Early studies of AET focused primarily on the relational benefits associated with affectionate communication. These studies focused primarily on communication in father–son dyads and romantic couples.

Father–Son Relationships. In a series of studies of father–son communication, Floyd and Morman (Floyd & Morman, 1998, 2005; Morman & Floyd, 1999, 2002) investigated how affection affects the closeness and satisfaction men report in these relationships. Across these studies, results have consistently shown that high levels of affectionate interaction are positively associated with relational satisfaction. Two interesting findings from this research deal with the generational differences in expressions of affection. Morman and Floyd (1999) reported that both fathers and sons utilized supportive forms of affection (e.g., doing favors for one another), but that fathers’ expressions of all forms of affection exceeded sons’ expressions of affection. Floyd and Morman (2005) furthered this finding by testing a naïve theory of affectionate communication, namely, that sons felt that they had to compete with their siblings for their fathers’ affection, in adult father–son dyads. The results demonstrated that the perception of sibling conflict for parental affection was prevalent among sons but that fathers reported no difference in how they distributed affection. This finding illustrates one of the potential pitfalls of affectionate communication; that is, what one member of a dyad considers affection given might not be perceived as such by the receiver. The second main finding to emerge from the studies of father–son dyads is the apparent changes that have occurred in the affectionate climate of father–son relationships in the last generation. Floyd and Morman (2000a) began the line of inquiry by examining fathers’ reports of modeling and compensation in the level of affection they expressed to their own sons. Results revealed a curvilinear relationship between fathers’ reports of the affection they received from their own fathers and the amount of affection

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given to their sons. That is, fathers with highly affectionate fathers tended to model that affectionate behavior in their relationship with their sons whereas fathers with unaffectionate fathers tended to compensate in the amount of affection they expressed toward their sons. Morman and Floyd (2002) extended this generational change hypothesis in examining what has been called a “changing culture of fatherhood.” Overall, results from this study suggested that fathers tend to show more affection to their sons than their own fathers showed them. These findings are particularly significant insofar as they exemplify a cultural shift in the appropriateness of expressing affection. Whereas affection in father–son relationships was constrained by sex and gender roles as recently as one generation ago, fathers of today are more willing to express affection openly to their sons.

Romantic Relationships. A second line of research has focused on the effects of affectionate expression in romantic relationships. Floyd (2002; Floyd, Hess et al., 2005) examined the effects of affectionate communication on various relationship outcomes. Results from these studies revealed that highly affectionate individuals reported that their interpersonal relationships were more important to them and that they were more comfortable with intimacy and closeness than were non-affectionate individuals. Compared to non-affectionate individuals, highly affectionate individuals were also more likely to be in a long-term romantic relationship, and among all participants in romantic relationships, highly affectionate individuals reported higher levels of relational satisfaction. In several additional studies (including a re-analysis of the 2002 data), Floyd, Hess et al. (2005) replicated and extended the general pattern of results indicating that engaging in affectionate interaction was associated with improved relational health. Floyd, Hess et al. (2005) re-examined the data from the previous study to determine whether or not individuals received specific benefits from expressing affection above and beyond the benefits of receiving affection alone. This is an important distinction within the theoretic framework of AET. AET conceptualizes affection as a sort of currency, so receiving affection has obvious benefits in the same way that receiving money has benefits. In keeping with the economic analogy, when individuals give affection to others, they expect to receive some type of benefit in the same way that individuals expect to receive something of value when they spend their money. Floyd et al. found support for the principle of affection exchange; controlling for the effects of received affection, individuals who expressed high levels of affection experienced advantages in relational health compared to non-affectionate individuals. This pattern of findings was replicated in several additional studies reported in Floyd, Hess et al. (2005), evidence that these effects are stable across samples and across relational situations.

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Mental Health Affectionate communication has also been associated with a number of benefits in the areas of mental health. Specifically, Floyd (2002; Floyd, Hess et al., 2005) found that highly affectionate individuals reported greater levels of happiness, self-esteem, and overall mental health when compared to nonaffectionate peers. In addition, highly affectionate individuals also reported lower levels of stress and depression when compared to non-affectionate individuals. As with findings related to relational health, these findings were true of both expressed and received affection. Affectionate communication also seems to be related to stable personality traits; overall, Floyd, Hess et al. (2005) found support for the hypothesis that affectionate communication is positively associated with the social trait of extraversion and negatively correlated with both neuroticism (worry and anxiety) and psychoticism (low behavioral control).

Stress Alleviation Given that affectionate communication is associated with decreased selfreported symptoms of stress, a logical extension of this line of research was the examination of physiological outcomes of the stress response. Indeed, one of the most significant areas of research dealing with AET has examined the ability of affectionate communication to counteract the negative physiological effects of stress. This research has focused on three broad domains of stress: Regulation of stress hormones, buffering against the effects of stress, and accelerating recovery from stressful events. This section will briefly review each of these contexts in order.

Stress Regulation. One of the key endocrine markers studied in the context of the human stress response is the steroid hormone cortisol (Floyd, Mikkelson, & Hesse, 2008). Cortisol is released in the body in response to a stressful stimulus, providing short bursts of energy that enable the fight-orflight response. In non-distressed individuals, cortisol also follows a natural diurnal pattern in which cortisol levels peak 30–40 minutes after waking and steadily decrease throughout the day (Nicholson, 2008). Among chronically distressed individuals, morning-to-evening levels of cortisol are undifferentiated. Floyd (2006b) found that affectionate interaction was positively associated with the degree of morning-to-evening change in cortisol levels, meaning that the expression of affection was associated with improved regulation of the body’s stress response. As with the previous studies, this trend was true for both affection received and affection given. In a second

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study utilizing a diurnal variation measure, Floyd and Riforgiate (2008) found that spouses’ reports of affection given predicted their partners’ degree of morning-to-evening cortisol change. Taken together, the results of these studies suggest that affectionate communication plays a significant role in regulating the body’s basal cortisol levels and provide further evidence for AET’s claims that affection promotes overall physical health.

Stress Buffering. Another line of research has examined the efficacy of affectionate communication as a buffer against the effects of acute stress. In the first test of the buffering effect, Floyd et al. (2007a) used self-reports of the amount of affection typical of participants’ closest relationships to determine if affection minimized the physiological effects of acute stress. In the study, participants were exposed to multiple acute stressors, including mental math exercises, Stroop color word tests, and cold pressor tests. Results supported the stress-buffering hypothesis; overall, participants who reported high levels of verbal and supportive affection in their relationships had lower resting heart rate at baseline and also exhibited less of an increase in the stress hormone cortisol during the stressful activities. In a second study of the stress-buffering hypothesis, Pauley, Floyd, and Hesse (2009) had participants and either a friend or romantic partner engage in a brief conversation before exposure to acute stressors (such as those used by Floyd et al., 2007a). Results of this study also supported a stress-buffering effect of affectionate communication; compared to participants in non-affectionate groups, those who engaged in a brief affectionate conversation exhibited less cardiovascular arousal during acute stress. In addition, participants who engaged in the affectionate activity with a friend experienced a buffering effect for cortisol, although the same effect did not manifest among romantic participants. Recovery from Stress. One final line of stress-related research has focused on the ability of affectionate communication to accelerate the process of recovery from stress. In studies within this domain, researchers have primarily focused on the efficacy of affectionate letters in helping individuals recover from the physiological effects of acute stress. Based in part on the expressive writing paradigm (see Pennebaker, 1993; Smyth, 1998), the act of writing affectionate letters allows individuals to freely express both their thoughts and emotions related to a significant relational partner in a non-threatening and focused activity. In two studies (Floyd et al., 2007b; Floyd, Hesse, & Pauley, 2009), writing affectionate letters has significantly accelerated the process of physiological recovery from acute stress. In the first study, Floyd et al. (2007b) found that, compared to participants in comparison groups, those who wrote affectionate letters experienced a significant increase in the

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rate at which their cortisol levels returned to baseline. In an extension of this study, Floyd et al. (2009) found that this effect was evident only among female participants; in fact, male participants who engaged in the affectionate writing activity experienced a modest but nonsignificant increase in cortisol. The results from these studies demonstrate that writing affectionate letters is efficacious in reducing the effects of stress but also suggest that women might receive particular benefits from this activity that do not apply to men. In the next two sections, we examine the salient risks associated with expressing affectionate messages to others and the potential problems that receivers of affectionate messages can face. Although the dark side of affectionate communication represents one of its most intriguing aspects, it is also among the least studied aspects. The reasons to expect affectionate communication to be risky and problematic at times are more than sufficient, but the empirical research on this characteristic of affectionate behavior is still very much in its infancy. In places, therefore, these sections may seem to be longer on speculation than on actual evidence. This is understandable. Since affectionate behavior is typically associated with positive outcomes, rather than negative ones, it makes sense that more scientists have not yet turned their attention to its potential dark side. There is much to be learned about affectionate communication by examining its risks and pitfalls, however, as we will see in the following sections.

RISKS OF EXPRESSING AFFECTIONATE MESSAGES Although conveying affection to loved ones can be one of our most rewarding relational maintenance behaviors, it is sometimes fraught with unanticipated pitfalls. Many people have had the unnerving experience of expressing positive, affectionate sentiments to others, only to suffer negative consequences as a result. In previous work (e.g., Floyd, 2006a; Floyd & Burgoon, 1999; Floyd & Morman, 1997), we have suggested that senders of affectionate messages must negotiate, to varying degrees, at least four types of risks: Nonreciprocity, misinterpretation, social censure, and disease transmission.

Risk of Nonreciprocity When senders convey affectionate messages, perhaps the most evident risk they take is the risk that receivers will fail to reciprocate them. As Floyd (2006a) argued, the risk of nonreciprocity is actually two separate risks masquerading as one. One is the risk that the expression itself will not be reciprocated; the other is the risk that, even if the expression is reciprocated,

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the actual sentiment will not be. Both involve potential threats to senders’ positive face, or their need for acceptance, approval, and affiliation (Brown & Levinson, 1987; Lim & Bowers, 1991). The risk of nonreciprocity might be most intense during the early stages of relationship development. The initial expression of affection in a new relationship—whether conveyed through a hug, a kiss, a verbal declaration of love, or by other means—is often a critical turning point for relational development (Booth-Butterfield & Trotta, 1994; Owen, 1987). If the initial expression is not reciprocated, however, it may actually constitute a negative turning point, possibly precipitating relational de-escalation, at least temporarily. In new relationships, a declaration of affection functions, in part, as a sender’s invitation for the receiver to make his or her own feelings known. Consequently, it may operate as a type of “secret test” for gaining information about how one’s partner feels about a new relationship (see Baxter & Wilmot, 1984). If the receiver fails to reciprocate the expression, senders may interpret that failure as an indication that the underlying sentiment is not shared, which may dampen their enthusiasm for continued relational development. Adding insult to injury is the strong social expectation that expressions of affection will be reciprocated. Gouldner’s (1960) moral norm of reciprocity, which we discuss in greater detail below, suggests that one beneficial behavior should elicit another in return. In this case, the norm of reciprocity would predict that one expression of affection ought to elicit another in response. Indeed, social psychologists have long recognized that people have overwhelming tendencies to reciprocate positive feelings and evaluations directed at them by others (Jones & Wortman, 1973; Kenny & Nasby, 1980). In most circumstances, one would reasonably expect both senders and receivers to share this expectation. If a receiver fails to reciprocate an affectionate message, therefore, even despite the social expectation to do so, then the offense to the sender may be particularly poignant. The risk of nonreciprocity is likely much less salient in established relationships than in newly forming ones, for two reasons. First, established relationships typically entail greater behavioral predictability than do newer relationships (see, e.g., Parks & Floyd, 1996). That is, people are usually better able to predict their partners’ behaviors in established relationships than in new ones. As a consequence, when senders express affection in established relationships, they ought to worry less about whether it will be reciprocated because they are better able to predict whether or not it will be. The second reason to expect nonreciprocity to be a less salient risk in established relationships is that, in such relationships, partners have usually communicated and reinforced their level of mutual love and affection multiple times over the course of their relationship. If a particular affectionate expression is not reciprocated, for some reason, partners in an established relationship

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therefore ought to be less concerned that the corresponding sentiment is unshared. Instead, partners in established relationships should be more likely than those in newer ones to attribute the lack of reciprocity to unstable, situational factors (e.g., “she probably just had a lot on her mind at the time”) rather than to stable, internal ones (e.g., “this proves he doesn’t really love me”).

Risk of Misinterpretation A second risk for senders of affectionate messages is that receivers will misinterpret their meaning. Specifically, a receiver may interpret an affectionate behavior as a romantic gesture when it was intended merely to convey platonic affection, or vice versa. For two reasons, this is a particularly salient risk for senders. First, with many forms of affectionate behavior, there is ample opportunity for misinterpretation on the part of receivers. For example, even a relatively straightforward verbal statement such as “I love you” can be decoded in multiple ways (e.g., “I am in love with you,” “I love you as a romantic partner,” “I love you as a friend,” “I love you like a family member”). As the ambiguity of the gesture increases, the risk of misinterpretation is magnified. The phrase “I love you” may be more ambiguous when written than when spoken, for instance, because facial and vocal cues in the latter situation can help to clarify its meaning (Floyd & Morman, 2000b). Likewise, the risk of misinterpretation may be greater for nonverbal expressions of affection than for verbal (see Floyd, 1999, 2000). The second reason why misinterpretation is a salient risk is that it invokes face threats for both sender and receiver. Suppose Ethan tells his friend Hannah that he loves her and, although he intends to convey platonic love, Hannah interprets the expression as a romantic gesture. One of two types of face threat might ensue, depending on how Hannah feels about Ethan. If she has romantic interest in him, she may reciprocate his expression with a romantic overture of her own. Since Ethan’s feeling for Hannah are merely platonic, however, this imposes on him the task of explaining that she misinterpreted his expression (a form of negative face threat). It likewise causes embarrassment for Hannah and threatens her positive face (via the acknowledgement that Ethan does not care for her in a romantic way). Hannah’s embarrassment and positive face threat could also threaten Ethan’s positive face, if she feels angry with him for “leading her on.” Suppose Hannah misinterprets Ethan’s expression as romantic but she does not have a romantic interest in him. In that situation, it is primarily Hannah’s face needs that are threatened. In particular, she inherits the obligation to tell Ethan that her feelings for him are platonic, which entails a negative face threat similar to the one Ethan faced in the previous scenario.

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Of course, in this situation, Hannah is not actually threatening Ethan’s positive face, given that his feelings for her were platonic from the beginning. She would believe she is causing a positive face threat nonetheless. The face threats and embarrassment that may accompany the misinterpretation of an affectionate behavior are not limited to verbal expressions. In fact, the risk of misinterpretation is probably inversely related to the amount and quality of contextual information available to the receiver; as such, it is likely to be higher for written than spoken expressions, and higher for nonverbal than verbal behaviors (see Bratslavsky, Baumeister, & Sommer, 1998).

Risk of Social Censure A third risk for senders of affectionate messages relates to variation in receivers’ and observers’ perceptions of expectancies, appropriateness, and decorum. Several factors influence people’s evaluations of the appropriateness of affectionate behaviors. One is the sex composition of the relationship in which they occur. Experimental investigations have demonstrated that observers judge as more appropriate overt expressions of affection in male–female and female–female pairs than in male–male pairs (HarrisonSpeake & Willis, 1995; Rane & Draper, 1995), even in the absence of specific cues about the nature of the relationship (Floyd & Morman, 2000b). Sexcomposition effects are tempered by relationship type, however. Specifically, overt expressions of affection in male–male pairs are evaluated as more appropriate between family members (e.g., brothers or fathers and sons) than between male platonic friends (Floyd & Morman, 1997; Morman & Floyd, 1998). Finally, the emotional intensity of the social context influences people’s perceptions of the appropriateness of affectionate behavior. In particular, people evaluate affectionate expressions more positively in emotionally charged situations, such as graduations or funerals, than in emotionally neutral situations (Floyd & Morman, 1997). If senders enact affectionate behaviors that receivers or third-party observers judge as inappropriate, they risk censure from others in the form of disapproval or, in extreme cases, retaliatory action. An example of the latter would be an instance of sexual harassment in the workplace. Suppose that Grant is a store manager and Jody is a cashier who reports to him. Grant and Jody are good friends. One day at work, Grant expresses his affection by hugging Jody in the foyer of the store. Given the context in which the gesture occurs—a work environment, with customers and other employees present— most who witness this display, including Jody, deem it inappropriate. Whereas customers and other employees might convey their disapproval mildly (through facial expressions or gossip), Jody could decide to convey it through

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formalized means, such as by filing a grievance or accusing Grant of sexual harassment. Importantly, because of their close friendship, Grant and Jody may have been used to embracing each other in private, non-work contexts. In this example, therefore, it was not the behavior itself that elicited censure from others but, rather, the context in which it was enacted. In other situations, the behavior itself may be deemed inappropriate for a given relationship, regardless of the social environment. A father attempting to convey affection for his daughter by kissing her intimately would, in all typical circumstances, elicit disapproval from others no matter what the social situation. No such censure would be expected if he showed affection in a similar manner to his wife, however, provided he were enacting the behavior in a context in which it were appropriate.

Risk of Disease Transmission For those carrying a communicable illness or disease, affectionate expressions involving physical contact or proximity carry a fourth risk, that of transmitting the illness or disease to the receiver. It is likely common for those with acute conditions, such as a cold or flu, to curtail physically affectionate behaviors such as kissing during the contagion period. Recent research suggests that some with chronic disorders, even if they cannot actually be transmitted through casual contact, may similarly curtail physical affection out of fear of disease transmission. Schuster, Beckett, Corona, and Zhou (2005) interviewed 344 parents drawn from a nationally representative probability sample of HIV-infected adults in the United States regarding their beliefs about HIV and their affectionate behaviors with their children. The researchers asked specifically about three affectionate behaviors: Hugging, kissing on the lips, and kissing on the cheek. More than a third (36.1%) of the parents reported avoiding at least one of those affectionate behaviors with their children out of fear of transmitting HIV to the children via that behavior. Avoidance was most common for kissing on the lips. The authors also found that Hispanic parents were substantially more fearful than African American or Caucasian parents of transmitting HIV to a child through affectionate behavior. Moreover, 42% of the sample reported avoiding at least one of the affectionate behaviors with children, not out of fear of transmitting HIV to the child but out of fear of catching an opportunistic infection from the child that would prove problematic for an HIV-infected adult’s health. Although non-sexual affectionate behavior does not generally pose any genuine risk for HIV transmission, research indicates that it is associated with the transmission of other diseases. Most such research has focused on

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romantic kissing and the implications of salivary exchange and potential blood exchange (via trace amounts of blood in the saliva). Effects can include facilitating the transmission of viral infections, such as influenza (SchochSpana, 2000), infectious mononucleosis (Carbary, 1975), and herpes simplex viruses (Cowan et al., 2002). For instance, a matched cohort study of adolescents aged between 15 and 19 found that intimate kissing quadruples the risk of meningococcal meningitis (Tully et al., 2006). Romantic kissing can also facilitate transmission of drug allergies (Liccardi, Gilder, D’Amato, & D’Amato, 2002; Mancuso & Berdondini, 2006) and food allergies (Maloney, Chapman, & Sicherer, 2006). Some scientists have actually warned of the potential for avian flu or HIV transmission from romantic kissing if small lesions are present on the mucous membranes of the infected partner (Maged, 2006; Piazza et al., 1989). Although disease transmission is a risk of greater gravity than nonreciprocity, misinterpretation, or social censure, it is also relatively isolated by circumstance, affecting only those who believe themselves to be at risk for transmitting or contracting illness via physical contact. The risks of nonreciprocity, misinterpretation, and social censure should therefore be more prevalent than the risk of disease transmission in their effects on senders of affectionate messages. As we noted above, however, it is not only senders of affectionate behaviors, but receivers as well, who are susceptible to their potential pitfalls. The next section discusses some of the potential problems facing receivers of affectionate expressions. We refer to them as potential problems, rather than risks, because the latter term implies a level of foresight more likely to characterize a sender (who can deliberately craft a message and plan the contingencies of its delivery) than a receiver. Despite the shift in terms, however, we do not consider the potential hazards of affectionate communication to be any less salient for receivers than for senders.

POTENTIAL PROBLEMS OF RECEIVING AFFECTIONATE EXPRESSIONS As we noted earlier in this chapter, humans usually enjoy receiving expressions of affection. They elicit feelings of being appreciated, valued, and protected, and they are associated with a number of physiological responses that reinforce their reward value. Conveying affection entails risks for senders, however; and, as detailed in this section, it invokes potential problems for receivers, as well. Our discussion focuses on three potential problems that accompany the receipt of affectionate behaviors: The expectation of reciprocity, relational boundary ambiguity, and perceived manipulation. We refer to these problems as potential to recognize that they

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do not accompany every affectionate exchange, or probably even most. They are, however, possibilities that receivers do encounter and ones that can influence the relationships in which they are encountered.

Expectations for Reciprocity One potential problem is that receivers of an affectionate expression may immediately feel obligated to reciprocate the expression, whether they would elect to or not. According to Gouldner (1960), humans have an implicit social contract, or moral imperative, to reciprocate favors, provisions of resources, or acts of kindness received from others. Work in evolutionary psychology has supported Gouldner’s suggestion. Trivers (1971) noted that humans practice reciprocal altruism by expecting their good deeds to be reciprocated in kind and by feeling wronged when they are not. In addition, Cosmides and Tooby (1992) argued that humans are so attuned to principles of equity and reciprocity as to have evolved cognitive “detection mechanisms” to identify instances of cheating. If one does a favor for a friend, therefore, then Gouldner, Trivers, Cosmides, and Tooby would all argue that both oneself and one’s friend would expect the favor to be repaid in the future. If one later needs the friend’s help and he or she refuses it, the reciprocity principle suggests that one should feel cheated and the friend should feel guilty. Cosmides and Tooby provide that both emotions are adaptive insofar as they make the experience of “cheating” (by not reciprocating favors) aversive, particularly for the cheater. As we explained in the previous section, when one person receives an expression of affection (e.g., the verbal expression “I love you”), both the receiver and the sender will, under usual circumstances, expect the expression to be reciprocated in kind. The possibility that it may not be reciprocated is a risk assumed by the sender. The expectation of reciprocity, however, can place the receiver in the uncomfortable position of feeling obligated to reciprocate the expression—and to reciprocate it in kind, with an expression of similar intensity—whether he or she actually possesses feelings of affection for the sender or not. It would be reasonable to consider this a more salient problem when the affectionate feelings are not shared than when they are. Such a situation can be adjudicated with reference to politeness theory and face needs (Brown & Levinson, 1987; Goffman, 1959)—specifically, we can consider the potential threats to positive face (the need for approval) and negative face (the need for autonomy). For example, suppose that Jeremy says “I love you” to his friend Nicole and that Nicole does not share the sentiment. Due to the norm of reciprocity, both should expect that Nicole will reciprocate the expression, and that would certainly be one option for her. In addition to the discomfort

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of lying to Jeremy about her feelings, however, that option exposes Nicole to a potential negative face threat. Specifically, by affirming Jeremy’s feelings, Nicole may feel obligated to behave toward him in a manner consistent with those feelings, rather than behaving as she otherwise would. For instance, she may feel obligated to spend more time with Jeremy than she wants or to act more interested in him than she really is. A second option for Nicole would be to reciprocate the expression with one of lesser intensity (e.g., “I like you, too”), and a third option would be not to respond at all. As we described earlier, both of these reactions would likely threaten Jeremy’s positive face, but they may also threaten Nicole’s positive and negative face. By failing to reciprocate the expression, or by reciprocating with an expression of lesser intensity, Nicole would imply to Jeremy that she does not share his feelings of love. If that is not the response Jeremy hopes for, Nicole risks incurring negative feelings from him that are borne out of his disappointment or hurt. Such a response would certainly be expected to threaten Nicole’s need for approval. Indeed, Erbert and Floyd (2004) hypothesized that a receiver’s dispositional positive face need predicts his or her intention to reciprocate an affectionate expression in kind. After controlling for participant sex and the sex composition of the dyad (samevs. opposite-sex), they found that positive face need was a significant predictor of one’s intention to respond in kind to an affectionate expression from a platonic friend. Besides the positive face threat, there are at least two potential negative face threats to Nicole in this situation. First, her negative face may be threatened by her feeling of obligation to respond to Jeremy’s expression in the first place. That may be especially true if she chooses to be honest about her feelings, since she will most likely be aware that she will disappoint Jeremy. This situation is similar to the discomfort that people feel when they must bear bad news to others. Second, Nicole may feel that, to mitigate the positive face threat to Jeremy, she should be especially nice to him, spend extra time with him, or otherwise reaffirm her positive (but not loving) feelings for him. To the extent that she feels obliged to perform these actions when she may not have chosen to, this can also constitute a threat to her negative face. Research on unrequited love reveals that receiving an expression of affectionate feelings that one does not share is a psychologically distressing experience (see, e.g., Baumeister & Wotman, 1992; Bratslavsky et al., 1998). In a study that examined the unrequited love experience from the standpoints of both “would-be lovers” (those who conveyed feelings of romantic love to another) and “rejecters” (those who failed to reciprocate the emotions), Baumeister, Wotman, and Stillwell (1993) discovered that rejecters actually described the experience as being more aversive than did would-be lovers. Baumeister and colleagues offered several potential

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explanations. First, they surmised that rejecting love may violate innate motives for attachment (Bowlby, 1969, 1973; Hazan & Shaver, 1987; Shaver, Hazan, & Bradshaw, 1988) and the need to belong (Baumeister & Leary, 1995), therefore causing psychological turmoil and internal conflict for rejecters. Second, they noted that rejecters commonly report feeling guilty for failing to reciprocate their would-be lovers’ affections. Indeed, in Baumeister et al. (1993), rejecters’ guilt was significantly more likely to be referenced in their own accounts than in the would-be lovers’ accounts, suggesting that rejecters felt more guilt than the rejected believed they felt. Importantly, rejecters of unrequited love have the option of reciprocating—or at least, failing to reject overtly—a would-be lover’s expression of affection even if they don’t share the emotion. Such a response might temporarily relieve the rejecter of guilt or other negative emotions. As we saw with Nicole in the previous example, however, it runs the long-term risks of obligating the rejecter to spend time with the would-be lover and encouraging his or her affectionate overtures. Over time, this can encourage the wouldbe lover’s feelings for the rejecter. Paradoxically, therefore, that short-term solution to the rejecter’s problem can have the longer-term effect of making the eventual overt rejection far more traumatic for both parties than it initially would have been. Could the sense of obligation to reciprocate Jeremy’s expression threaten Nicole’s face even if she did share his affectionate feelings? It certainly may (albeit to a lesser degree than if she didn’t share his feelings) if Nicole were uncomfortable expressing her affection for some reason, perhaps because of the context, or perhaps because she is not an especially affectionate person. In either situation, receiving an affectionate expression has the potential to be problematic because of the strong expectation for reciprocity that usually accompanies it.

Relational Boundary Ambiguity In personal relationships, affectionate communication often serves as a marker by which relational development is gauged. Owen (1987) found that romantic partners frequently can recall their first kiss or their first exchange of the words “I love you” because such expressions often coincide with, or even precipitate, critical turning points in the nature of the relationship (e.g., “it was when he first said he loved me that I knew I wanted him to be my boyfriend”). This aspect of affectionate communication is advantageous for those endeavoring to initiate a relationship or transform an existing relationship from platonic to romantic. The fact that affectionate communication is often used for such purposes, however, raises the possibility that affectionate

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expressions could cause relational boundary ambiguity for receivers. For instance, suppose Prasad and Mandy are platonic friends who frequently spend time together, enjoy each other’s company, and often joke that they really should be dating each other. If, in the context of joking about their suitability as romantic partners, Mandy tells Prasad that she loves him, it is possible (perhaps likely) that Prasad will wonder whether Mandy intended her words as an expression of platonic love or, instead, as an invitation to explore a romantic relationship. The potential ambiguity of the words can be problematic for Prasad because he must attend to the implications of its various meanings. If he believes it possible that Mandy loves him romantically, he must decide whether he shares those feelings, and if he does not, he must ascertain a way of communicating that to Mandy, presumably in a manner that will best protect both their feelings. Besides requiring Prasad to process the potential relational implications, the ambiguity of Mandy’s statement also makes his behavioral response tenuous. If Prasad does not feel romantically toward Mandy, he may be hesitant to respond to her statement in a manner that she could interpret as romantic. That is, he may be motivated to respond in such a way that the platonic nature of his sentiment is as unequivocal as possible without causing Mandy emotional harm. If, instead, he does feel romantic love for Mandy, he may choose to respond to her statement in a manner that is equally ambiguous, so he can “test the waters” and see if she really does have romantic feelings for him. If she does not, and he has misinterpreted her initial statement, then Prasad’s ambiguous response would let him save face by denying that he meant anything but platonic love in return. Experiencing some degree of ambiguity in developing relationships is a common experience (Cupach & Spitzberg, 2004). As the example above demonstrates, messages used to define the nature of the relationship can be quite equivocal and easily lead to confusion, frustration, and possible hurt. Some evidence suggests that this type of relational boundary ambiguity is of greater concern in relationships that are not especially close than it is in close relationships. Erbert and Floyd (2004) asked participants to think of a particular platonic friend and imagine receiving one of three different messages from that friend. The messages corresponded to three politeness strategies identified by Brown and Levinson (1987): (1) bald-on-record, in which the expression is straightforward and unqualified (e.g., “I really care about you; you’re very important to me”); (2) negative politeness, in which the expression is qualified to mitigate potential negative face threats (e.g., “I don’t mean this in a romantic way, but I really care about you”); and

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(3) off-the-record, in which the sentiment is implied rather than directly stated (e.g., “I think you’re pretty cool”). Participants reported on the extent to which receiving these affectionate expressions from specified platonic friends would cause them to wonder whether their friend were making a romantic overture. In other words, the study ascertained whether these types of affectionate behaviors, when enacted in platonic relationships, would cause ambiguity in participants’ conceptions of their friendships. As hypothesized, the type of affectionate message (whether bald-onrecord, negative politeness, or off-the-record) predicted receivers’ likelihood of experiencing relational boundary ambiguity. Importantly, however, this effect was moderated by the closeness of the friendship. Specifically, those reporting on friendships that were not highly close indicated that they would experience the greatest relational boundary ambiguity if they received the bald-on-record message, less if they received the negative politeness message, and the least if they received the off-the-record message. Contrariwise, those reporting on closer friendships reported no difference among the three messages in terms of the likelihood that they would experience relational boundary ambiguity. On one hand, it is easy to understand why closeness influences the likelihood that affectionate messages elicit relational boundary ambiguity for friends. Relational closeness typically entails, among other things, shared knowledge about the partners; that is, people usually feel that they know more about their close relational partners than they do about people to whom they are less close. Consequently, people in close relationships are usually better equipped than people in less close relationships to interpret each other’s statements accurately, allowing them to sidestep problems of ambiguity such as those discussed above. On the other hand, however, one might expect that close friendships—because of their closeness—are more likely to evolve into romantic relationships than are friendships that are less close. If so, then relational ambiguity might be a more salient problem in close friendships than in less close ones. These are competing hypotheses, and Erbert and Floyd’s (2004) data support the former prediction. Future research on the potential negative outcomes of affectionate communication could enhance understanding of how relationship closeness moderates these outcomes.

Affectionate Expressions as Manipulation Attempts A third potential problem facing receivers is the possibility that an affectionate expression may not be genuine, but may instead mask an ulterior

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motive (Booth-Butterfield & Trotta, 1994). For instance, suppose that Ryan and Kimberly have been dating for a few weeks and Ryan wants to initiate sexual interaction but perceives that Kimberly is hesitant. To overcome her hesitation, Ryan might tell Kimberly that he loves her and use phrases like “it’s okay for us to have sex if we love each other,” or “you would do it if you loved me.” Ryan’s motivation is to manipulate Kimberly into having sex; he does not have genuine love for her. The risk for Kimberly, however, is that she will believe that Ryan genuinely does love her and will therefore acquiesce to his advances, even though she would not have if she believed his affectionate expressions to be inauthentic. Such a possibility derives from one of the most fundamental problems inherent in emotional communication: The internal experience of an emotion does not necessarily covary with the behaviors through which it is communicated. People can choose not to communicate emotions they are experiencing, and there are several reasons why they may do so. Some conceal their emotions to maintain decorum; in a somber environment such as a funeral, for example, it is not proper to display signs of joy or excitement, even though one may be feeling them. Moreover, people may conceal emotions because they are embarrassed about having them in the first place; if one feels envious about another’s good fortune, for instance, one may elect not to express it out of shame at feeling that way. Likewise, people conceal their emotions for the purpose of manipulating others’ beliefs; this is the principle behind having a “poker face.” We continually gather information about each other by attending to emotional cues, especially facial expressions of emotion. The more skilled one is at masking one’s emotions, therefore, the less information he or she volunteers to others (and the stronger his or her own strategic position is as a result). The potential problem for receivers of affectionate behavior arises from the fact that people can express emotions they are not actually experiencing. We do this routinely in the service of politeness; we may say “nice to meet you” to someone we are not happy to see or express joy about a gift we do not actually like. Indeed, scientists use the term emotion labor to describe types of work that require people to display emotions they are not necessarily experiencing. For example, people in hospitality and service industries are often required to smile and appear happy, whereas law enforcement and correctional officers must sometimes present a dominant, aggressive front, whether these behaviors reflect their actual emotions or not. Ploog (1986) reviewed evidence from multiple sources to establish that people can express emotions, especially through facial and vocal expressions, that are disconnected from their actual emotional experiences. This aspect of emotional expression fuels the possibility that one could use affectionate behavior as a manipulation attempt. As an example, suppose that Claire and Brandon have been dating for a few weeks and that Brandon

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wants Claire to let him use her family’s beach house for a weekend with his fraternity brothers. To be persuasive, Brandon may tell Claire that he loves her and engage in nonverbal gestures of affection, such as kissing, hugging, or caressing her even if he does not have genuine feelings of love for Claire. If Claire believes, on the basis of his behaviors, that Brandon actually does love her, her belief may influence her to allow Brandon access to the beach house, in which case Brandon’s strategy will have been successful. This strategy, however, is inherently risky. If Claire believes that Brandon does not love her but is merely using affectionate behaviors to manipulate her, she may feel used, belittled, angry, and resentful, and one could easily imagine such a reaction precipitating the termination of their relationship. Scholars of cults and cultic behavior have observed that some groups routinely communicate excessive affection to new recruits for the manipulative purposes of conversion (see, e.g., Henson, 2002). The practice, dubbed love bombing, involves feigning affection for new recruits and showering them with affection in order to reduce their resistance to recruitment. Singer (2003) notes that, by feeding people’s innate needs for companionship, love bombing often accounts for the success of cults’ drives to recruit new members. Erbert and Floyd (2004) investigated the likelihood that people interpret affectionate expressions as manipulation attempts. In addition to reporting on relational boundary ambiguity, participants in the Erbert and Floyd experiment indicated the extent to which receiving one of three types of affectionate messages (bald-on-record, negative politeness, off-the-record) from a platonic friend would make them feel as though their friend were trying to manipulate them. On the basis of politeness theory, the researchers predicted that receivers would feel manipulated the most by the bald-onrecord message, less by the negative politeness message, and the least by the off-the-record message. This hypothesis reflected the descending degree of directness in the three messages. Because the bald-on-record message was the most direct and unequivocal, the researchers expected that it would be the most likely to make a receiver feel as though the sender were trying to manipulate him or her. They further hypothesized, however, that the effect of the message type on receivers’ reports of manipulation would be moderated by two factors: The closeness of the friendship and the receivers’ trait negative face need. Specifically, they anticipated that participants would be less likely to feel manipulated by the affection messages if they were reporting on relationships that were close and if they, themselves, had a low negative face need. Only one of the expected effects emerged: Participants’ trait negative face need significantly predicted their likelihood of feeling manipulated by the affectionate messages. Friendship closeness was not influential, and there was no main effect of the message type on perceptions

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of manipulation, once participants’ sex, relationship sex composition, closeness, and negative face need were controlled. The results suggested that people are likely to feel manipulated by affectionate messages if they have a strong need for protecting their autonomy (i.e., for not being manipulated) than if that need is less strong. By itself, this finding is relatively uninformative; indeed, people with high negative face needs are probably more likely than people with low negative face needs to feel manipulated by any number of communicative events. One reason the other predicted effects may not have emerged is that being manipulated—especially by a close friend—is likely to cause discomfort, which may dissuade research participants from discussing such a situation. As a type of social desirability bias, therefore, participants may have been reluctant to report that their friends’ expression of affection would make them feel manipulated, even if it actually would. Erbert and Floyd suggested that the same concern for social desirability might not have influenced participants’ willingness to report feeling relational boundary ambiguity, because having a friend express romantic interest in oneself is likely to make one feel less stigmatized than having a friend try to manipulate oneself through the use of affection. A subsequent study conducted by Floyd, Erbert, Davis, and Haynes (2005) provided a more detailed understanding of the use of affectionate communication as a manipulation strategy. Given that receivers might be reluctant to admit that people had tried to manipulate them through affectionate behavior, Floyd et al. asked respondents about their experiences of having done so to others. The sample consisted of over a thousand undergraduate students from several universities and community colleges located throughout the United States. They completed an online questionnaire that asked whether they had ever expressed affection to someone when they did not really feel it, but when they were, instead, using the affectionate expression for some other motive. Those who responded affirmatively were asked to describe the situation, including the relationship in which it occurred, what their actual motive was, and the behaviors they used to express affection as a means of fulfilling that motive. Importantly, the descriptions were of situations when participants had expressed affection that they did not actually feel, as opposed to times when they simply reaffirmed genuine affection for a manipulative purpose. Results indicated that 86% of the respondents had conveyed nongenuine affection for a manipulative purpose on at least one occasion. More than half of those indicated that they had done so at least once within the previous month, suggesting that the use of nongenuine affection is not an uncommon manipulative strategy. Neither ethnicity, biological sex, nor marital status affected the tendency to use nongenuine affection manipulatively. Compared to those who had

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not done so, however, participants who had used affectionate communication manipulatively were younger, more extroverted, more neurotic, more socially active, more psychotic, more fearful of intimacy, and more affectionate overall. More informative were participants’ descriptions of their motives and the targets of their manipulation attempts. The three most common targets were a platonic friend (34.2%), a current boyfriend/ girlfriend (24.4%), or a former boyfriend/girlfriend (11.5%). Together, these three relationships accounted for just over 70% of the instances described. Participants offered a number of different motives for their manipulative use of affectionate communication. Some of these were relationship-focused motives, such as sustaining a relationship or avoiding interpersonal conflict. Others were target-centered motives, in which the goal was to do something for the target, such as making him or her feel cared for, providing emotional comfort, or avoiding hurting his or her feelings. Still other motives were selfcentered motives, in which the goal was to obtain something from the target. These included the goals of eliciting instrumental help (such as assistance with a project), eliciting material help (such as money), eliciting forgiveness for a past indiscretion in order to appease one’s own guilt, and eliciting sexual interaction. Although it remains to be tested, one might predict that receivers who feel they are being manipulated through affectionate behavior to engage in behaviors they would not otherwise enact would feel a greater sense of violation, resentment, and anger toward senders than would those who feel they are being manipulated to do things they would elect to do anyway. The use of such a manipulation strategy might also be perceived more positively if it ultimately benefits the receiver than if it does not. For instance, one might evaluate more negatively a sender who uses affectionate behavior to elicit sex or money than one who uses affectionate behavior to comfort someone, even if the sender feels no actual affection in either case. Indeed, several studies have concluded that deceptive communication (in this case, false or misleading information about one’s affectionate feelings) is acceptable if and only if the goal of these messages is to enhance another’s emotional, physical, or psychological state (for a review, see O’Hair & Cody, 1994). Manipulating affectionate feelings to mislead others (either for good or ill) is an interesting subset of the broader construct of deceptive behavior, one that we believe will be an interesting issue for future affection research to address. Although affectionate communication is accompanied by a number of benefits, as we described at the start of this chapter, it is also subject to several risks and potential problems, both for senders and receivers. The juxtaposition of these two characteristics is, in large part, what makes the study of affectionate communication so intriguing and so worthwhile. To

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conclude our discussion, we articulate what we believe are three compelling issues that remain to be adjudicated.

FUTURE APPLICATIONS We began this chapter by noting the paradox of affectionate communication: Although its outcomes are often highly positive, they can also be highly negative. Research—such as the research we describe herein—has illuminated both sides of this paradox, but several issues reflecting the dark side of affectionate behavior warrant additional attention. To conclude this chapter, we briefly identify three: The association with sexual harassment, the connection to sexual abuse, and the effects of affection deprivation. The degree of ambiguity inherent in many affectionate messages makes affectionate communication a potentially problematic behavior in the workplace, given the probability of affectionate expressions being construed as instances of sexual harassment. Behaviors that may seem positive, or at least benign, to the sender may be interpreted as sexual overtures by a receiver or by observers. From a legal standpoint, such an instance is particularly problematic when the receiver is subordinate to the sender, but even peer-to-peer affectionate behavior can be construed as harassment due to the fact that many affectionate expressions (both verbal and nonverbal) can reasonably be interpreted as conveying either sexual or non-sexual interest (Riach & Wilson, 2007; Rotundo, Nguyen, & Sackett, 2001). Similarly, understanding that affectionate expressions can be made for manipulative purposes has implications for the prevention of sexual assault. To the extent that rape and other forms of sexual assault occur within existing or newly forming relationships, they may be preceded by insincere affectionate messages intended to persuade the victim that sexual interaction is warranted. Indeed, Floyd, Erbert et al. (2005) reported that “initiating sexual activity” was among the most common motives individuals identified for having expressed insincere verbal affection to others. With respect to understanding and preventing sexual assault, however, the critical question is not why someone would use an affectionate expression to coax another into sexual interaction, but why such a strategy would prove successful. The explanation offered by affection exchange theory is that it is evolutionarily adaptive for us to attend to affectionate messages as signals of another’s potential fitness as a mate and parent. This explanation is analogous to explanations that have been offered for the practice of human mate poaching (Schmitt & Buss, 2001). In order to successfully “poach” another’s mate, individuals commonly engage in behaviors designed to enhance their sexual attractiveness. For example, men tend to display material resources or dominance whereas women tend to hint at interest in sexual activity, each

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with the goal of initiating sexual contact. In the same vein, we contend that receiving an affectionate expression that is believed (by the recipient) to be sincere will be sufficiently persuasive, in many instances, to allow ill-advised or otherwise unwanted sexual interaction. A final dark side issue springs not from the expression of affection but from its absence. Largely in reaction to instances of sexual harassment and sexual abuse, public school districts around the United States have adopted zero-tolerance “no touch” policies preventing teachers, counselors, and other school staff from touching students in any manner not deemed a medical emergency. In such districts, even students in need of a comforting touch or affectionate gesture from a teacher or counselor will be denied those behaviors. Some researchers have wondered whether, in an effort to protect students through no-touch policies, school districts are actually harming students by denying them affection when they need and desire it (Harlow, 1958). Field (2001) opines that no-touch policies are “not a good idea, because children need touch for survival. Their growth and development thrive on touch. And how will they learn about love and affection if not through touch?” (p. 5).

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7

Infidelity: When, Where, Why Irene Tsapelas, Helen E. Fisher, and Arthur Aron

Pair-bonding is a hallmark of humanity. Data from the Demographic Yearbooks of the United Nations on 97 societies canvassed in the 1990s indicate that approximately 93.1% of women and 91.8% of men married by the age of 49 (Fisher, 1992). Worldwide marriage rates have declined somewhat since then; but today 85% to 90% of men and women in the United States are projected to marry (Cherlin, 2009). Cross-culturally, most who marry wed one person at a time: Monogamy. Polygyny is permitted in 84% of human societies; but in the vast majority of these cultures, only 5% to 10% of men actually have several wives simultaneously (Frayser, 1985; Murdock & White, 1969; van den Berghe, 1979). Monogamy, wedding one mate at a time, is the norm for Homo sapiens. Monogamy is only part of the human reproductive strategy, however. Infidelity is also widespread (Buunk & Dijkstra, 2006; Fisher, 1992). Studies of American couples indicate that 20–40% of heterosexual married men and 20–25% of heterosexual married women will have an extramarital affair during their lifetime (e.g., Greeley, 1994; Laumann, Gagnon, Michael, & Michaels, 1994; Tafoya & Spitzberg, 2007); when polled, approximately 2–4% of American men and women had had extramarital sex in the past year (e.g., Forste & Tanfer, 1996; Whisman, Gordon, & Chatav, 2007). Currently, dating couples in the United States report a 70% incidence of infidelity (Allen & Baucom, 2006); and in a recent survey of single American men and women, 60% of men and 53% of women admitted to “mate poaching,” trying to woo an individual away from a committed relationship to begin a relationship

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with them instead (Schmitt & Buss, 2001). Mate poaching is also common in 30 other cultures studied (Schmitt & Buss, 2001). Infidelity was also widespread in former decades, and in historical and tribal societies. Reports in the 1920s indicated that 28% of American men and 24% of women were adulterous at some point after marrying (Lawrence, 1989). In the late 1940s and early 1950s, approximately 33% of men and 26% of women in an American sample were adulterous (Kinsey, Pomeroy, & Martin, 1948; Kinsey, Pomeroy, Martin, & Gebhard, 1953). Data in the 1970s indicated that some 41% of men and 25% of women reported infidelity (Hunt, 1974), and data collected in the 1980s suggest that 72% of men and 54% of women were unfaithful at some point during marriage. Infidelity was also common among the classical Greeks and Romans, among the pre-industrial Europeans, among the historical Japanese, Chinese, and Hindus and among the traditional Inuit of the arctic, Kuikuru of the jungles of Brazil, Kofyar of Nigeria, Turu of Tanzania and many other tribal societies (Fisher, 1992). The Oxford English Dictionary defines adultery as sexual intercourse by a married person with someone other than one’s spouse. But current researchers have broadened this definition to include sexual infidelity (sexual exchange with no romantic involvement), romantic infidelity (romantic exchanges with no sexual involvement), and sexual and romantic involvement (Glass & Wright, 1992). When considering these varieties of adultery, statistics vary. In a meta-analysis of 12 studies of infidelity among American married couples, Thompson (1983) reported that 31% of men and 16% of women had had a sexual affair that entailed no emotional involvement; 13% of men and 21% of women had been romantically but not sexually involved with someone other than their spouse; and 20% of men and women had engaged in an affair that included both a sexual and emotional connection. This chapter will provide an overview of infidelity research conducted in the last 30 years with an emphasis on current trends in the field, including psychological, sociological, biological, and anthropological perspectives. Issues ranging from gender and individual difference variables to characteristics of the primary relationship and biological factors will be investigated. Further, the theoretical perspectives applied to the study of infidelity (i.e., investment, self-expansion, and evolutionary theories) will also be explored. Finally, the chapter will conclude with a consideration of future directions for infidelity research, including methodological advances and the benefit of exploring the functional ambivalence of infidelity.

ATTITUDES TOWARD INFIDELITY In a random sample of 3,432 American individuals, Laumann and colleagues (1994) reported that 77% of participants believed that extramarital sex is

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always wrong. Lieberman (1988) concluded, however, that American women are more disapproving of sexual infidelity in premarital committed relationships than are men. Disapproval of infidelity also differs among ethnic groups in the United States. Whereas 30% of Asian American men and women feel that violence toward a sexually unfaithful wife is justified (Yoshioka, DiNoia, & Ullah, 2001), 48% of Arab American women and 23% of Arab American men approve of a man slapping a sexually unfaithful wife (Kulwicki & Miller, 1999); 18% of Arab American women even approve of a man killing a sexually unfaithful wife. American men and women overall disapprove of emotional infidelity the least, followed by sexual infidelity; and disapproval is highest when the infidelity involves both sexual and emotional components (Glass & Wright, 1985). People who have been sexually unfaithful are more approving of infidelity (Solstad & Mucic, 1999). In fact, 90% of American husbands and wives who had engaged in some form of infidelity (sexual, emotional, or sexual and emotional infidelity) felt there were conditions under which this behavior was justified (Glass & Wright, 1992). In a sample of American dating adolescents, disapproval of infidelity was very high, yet one-third reported engaging in infidelity (Feldman & Cauffman, 1999). Widmer, Treas, and Newcomb (1998) conducted a study of attitudes regarding infidelity in 24 countries and also found widespread disapproval of extramarital sexual relationships, but participants in some countries, particularly Russia, Bulgaria, and the Czech Republic, were more tolerant of infidelity than were those in other countries. Japanese women were also more inclined to engage in sexual infidelity, but not approve of it (Maykovich, 1976), while American women were more inclined to approve of it without engaging in it.

PSYCHOLOGICAL AND RELATIONSHIP FACTORS ASSOCIATED WITH INFIDELITY A prominent psychological factor associated with infidelity is the degree of satisfaction in one’s primary, committed relationship. Known as the “deficit model” of infidelity, Thompson (1983) found that extramarital sex was negatively associated with several aspects of relationship satisfaction, including the degree to which the relationship was generally satisfying, whether personal needs were being fulfilled, the degree of love felt for the primary partner, the frequency and quality of sex with the primary partner, and the length of the marriage. Together, these characteristics accounted for some 25% of the variance in the incidence of extramarital sex. Boredom and a lack of emotional support in a marriage can also put partners at risk for infidelity (Allen et al., 2005), as does poor communication, including fewer positive and more negative interactions (Allen et al., 2008). Recent work

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(Tafoya & Spitzberg, 2007) has also begun to investigate the communicative functions of infidelity, including the intentions to maintain, repair, or terminate the primary relationship. Buss and Shackelford (1997) found that individuals who are unhappy in their marriages expect to engage in infidelity in the future, and they expect their spouses to do the same. Relationship dissatisfaction also correlates with the number of extra-dyadic partners (Wiggins & Lederer, 1984) and the degree of emotional and sexual involvement with one’s extramarital partner (e.g., Allen & Baucom, 2001; Glass & Wright, 1985). Marital dissatisfaction, however, unfolds in different ways for men and women (Allen et al., 2008). Unfaithful husbands indicate less satisfaction with their primary relationship before getting married; whereas unfaithful wives do not report lower levels of premarital relationship satisfaction. The degree of investment in a primary partnership and perceived quality of alternatives also play a role in infidelity. Rusbult’s investment model (Drigotas & Barta, 2001; Rusbult, 1980; Rusbult, Drigotas, & Verette, 1994) predicts that in addition to satisfaction with the relationship, other factors influence commitment to the relationship, including self-perceived ability to do without the relationship, and the benefits that might be lost if the relationship ends, including possessions, friends, and connections. Among college students, the degree of investment in the relationship negatively predicted the degree of physical and emotional infidelity (Drigotas, Safstrom, & Gentilia, 1999). Researchers have also studied infidelity from the perspective of the attachment model (Bogaert & Sadava, 2002). According to this perspective, children develop a specific style of attachment based on the way they are treated by caregivers (Bowlby, 1973). If a caregiver is not responsive to a child’s distress, the child may develop negative models of the self and others, known as fearful avoidant attachment. Other children develop a style of attachment in which they have a positive concept of the self but a negative concept of others, known as the dismissive avoidant attachment style. Still others develop a preoccupied attachment style, in which they have a negative concept of the self and a positive concept of others. Those who receive the appropriate attention and care in childhood often develop a secure attachment style with a positive concept of both themselves and others. Researchers now believe that attachment style remains active throughout the life course and serves as a foundation for attachment with a spouse (Fraley & Shaver, 2000; Hazan & Diamond, 2000; Hazan & Shaver, 1987). Research indicates that secure attachment is positively associated with more stable relationships and less infidelity (Miller & Fishkin, 1997), whereas insecure attachment is positively associated with more extra-dyadic relationships (Bogaert & Sadava, 2002). Men with a dismissive attachment style and women with a preoccupied attachment style had the largest number of extra-dyadic

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partners (Allen & Baucom, 2004); and individuals expressive of anxious attachment, particularly women, were also more likely to engage in sexual infidelity (Bogaert & Sadava, 2002). Aron and Aron’s (1986) self-expansion model posits another factor that plays a prominent role in the incidence of infidelity. According to this model, people are motivated to enter relationships in order to enhance the self and increase self-efficacy. By including others in the self (IOS), individuals experience their partner’s resources, perspectives, and identities as their own. This self-expansion starts as new partners begin to engage in intensive self-disclosure, talking on the phone for hours, spending extensive time together and thinking obsessively about one another. This results in rapid self-expansion, associated with feelings of pleasure and excitement (Aron, Aron, & Norman, 2001). Then as the partnership continues, shared participation in novel and challenging activities continues to enhance relationship quality and satisfaction, as well as counteract boredom (Aron, Norman, Aron, McKenna, & Heyman, 2000; Graham, 2008; Tsapelas, Aron, & Orbuch, 2009). If the process of self-expansion declines or stops, however, as partners become accustomed to one another, mates can become less satisfied with the relationship (Bradbury, Fincham, & Beach, 2000). Lewandowski and Ackerman (2006) found that among dating college students, the potential for self-expansion and one’s degree of inclusion of the other in the self accounted for a large portion of the variance in susceptibility to infidelity. On the other hand, although there were no direct data on effects on infidelity, the model also suggests that if the primary relationship is too self-expanding and thus overwhelming, or if there is too much closeness with the primary partner (see Mashek & Sherman, 2004), an individual may find this aversive and choose an extra-dyadic relationship that provides less self-expansion and less inclusion of the other. Researchers have also explored the relationship between infidelity and the “Big Five” personality traits—openness to new experience, conscientiousness, extroversion, agreeableness, and neuroticism—and related traits. Individuals who engage in infidelity are more open to new experiences and extroverted than their partners (Orzeck & Lung, 2005; Wiederman & Hurd, 1999; Yeniceri & Kokdemir, 2006), and more susceptible to boredom (Hendrick & Hendrick, 1987). Sexual infidelity is also associated with low agreeableness (Costa & McCrae, 1992; Graziano & Eisenberg, 1997), with low conscientiousness, and with higher neuroticism, or lacking positive psychological adjustment (Whisman et al., 2007). These correlations are found worldwide. In a study of 10 world regions, including North America, South America, Western Europe, Eastern Europe, Southern Europe, the Middle East, Africa, Oceania, South Asia and East Asia, individuals with a low degree of agreeableness or conscientiousness are also

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more likely to be unfaithful (Schmitt, 2004). In fact, individuals whose spouses have a low degree of agreeableness or conscientiousness are also more likely to engage in infidelity (Shackelford, Besser, & Goetz, 2008). And in relationships where both partners have a similar degree of agreeableness, conscientiousness, neuroticism, and openness to new experiences, individuals are more likely to be faithful (Drigotas et al., 1999; Orzeck & Lung, 2005). Based on the available data, low conscientiousness and low agreeableness seem to be most strongly related to infidelity (compared to the other “Big Five” traits) and these associations seem to be found in a diverse array of cultures. With regard to psychological disorders, individuals with relatively higher levels of psychopathy (Neubeck & Schletzer, 1969), and men (Hurlbert, Apt, Gasar, Wilson, & Murphy, 1994) and women (Buss & Shackelford, 1997) high in narcissism reported greater involvement in various forms of infidelity. In men, excessive alcohol consumption was related to a greater prevalence of extramarital involvement, and individuals with higher rates of depression were more likely to engage in extramarital sex (Beach, Jouriles, & O’Leary, 1985). The probability of sexual infidelity was also greater for women who had been sexually abused as children (Whisman & Snyder, 2007), perhaps because childhood sexual abuse is often related to sexual dissatisfaction and sexual difficulties in adult relationships (Finkelhor, Hotaling, Lewis, & Smith, 1989; Rumstein-McKean & Hunsley, 2001). Finally, Platt, Nalbone, Casanova, and Wetchler (2008) found that adult children who knew about their father’s infidelity were also more likely to engage in philandering.

SOCIOLOGICAL AND DEMOGRAPHIC FACTORS ASSOCIATED WITH INFIDELITY The imbalance of power in the primary relationship has been associated with infidelity. Edwards and Booth (1976) found that wives who reported that they “get their way” more often during disagreements were also more likely to have extramarital sexual involvements. Men and women who considered themselves more socially desirable than their spouses also had more extramarital partners and engaged in sexual infidelity sooner after wedding (Walster, Traupmann, & Walster, 1978). In past decades gender has shown a relationship with infidelity. A large body of research with American samples indicated that men have a stronger desire to engage in sexual infidelity (Prins, Buunk, & Van Yperen, 1993), are more likely to engage in sexual infidelity (Allen & Baucom, 2004), have more extra-dyadic sexual partners (Blumstein & Schwartz, 1983; Wiggins & Lederer, 1984), have more episodes of infidelity, including short- or longterm affairs and one-night stands (Brand, Markey, Mills, & Hodges, 2007),

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have more physical contact with extra-dyadic partners (including intercourse) (Wiederman & Hurd, 1999), cite more sexual motivations for infidelity (e.g., Barta & Kiene, 2005), and are less likely to fall in love with extra-dyadic partners (Glass & Wright, 1985). Husbands are also more suspicious of a wife’s potential sexual infidelity, as well as more likely to discover a wife’s affair (Brand et al., 2007). Women, on the other hand, tend to have a greater emotional connection with the extra-dyadic partner (Spanier & Margolis, 1983), report more intimacy and self-esteem motivations for infidelity, are more likely to feel this behavior is unlike them, and are more concerned about the negative judgments of others when they are unfaithful (Brand et al., 2007). Moreover, among women, the strength and frequency of affairs are related to the degree of dissatisfaction with the primary relationship, whereas among men the desire to engage in infidelity is less dependent on the state of the primary partnership (Prins et al., 1993). Although women are more distressed about their own infidelity (Van den Eijnden, Buunk, & Bosveld, 2000), Allen and Baucom (2006) report that American women are less concerned about hurting their spouse. Perhaps the lower level of marital satisfaction experienced by women leads them to feel more justified about their infidelity. Although gender differences in infidelity have been found in almost all past research, male and female rates of infidelity are becoming increasingly similar, particularly in younger cohorts in developed countries (Atkins, Baucom, & Jacobson, 2001; Choi, Catania, & Dolcini, 1994; Feldman & Cauffman, 1999; Laumann et al., 1994; Oliver & Hyde, 1993; Wiederman, 1997) Wiederman (1997) found no gender differences in extramarital sex among men and women under the age of 40. Seal, Agostinelli, and Hannett (1994) found that although men are more likely to report a desire to seek extra-dyadic partners, actual extra-dyadic sexual encounters show no gender difference. Decreasing gender differences in infidelity may be due to social changes, including rising female economic and reproductive independence (Fisher, 1998, 2004), or to the use of more sensitive measurements of infidelity based on broader definitions of philandering. Some aspects of infidelity, however, continue to vary by gender. Women still seem to be more likely to engage in infidelity when they are not satisfied with their primary relationship, while men tend to have higher rates of intercourse with an extradyadic partner. Homosexuals show slightly different patterns of infidelity. One study found that gay men were seven times as likely to have sexual encounters outside their primary relationship, compared to heterosexual men (Buss, 2000). In a sample of Americans, homosexual men were not as concerned as heterosexual men about the sexual infidelity of their partners; moreover gay men tended to regard only certain kinds of sexual behaviors as cheating (Blumstein & Schwartz, 1983). College-age gays and lesbians in both Japan

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and the United States also have more extra-dyadic partners than do heterosexuals (Tsapelas, Fisher, & Aron, 2009). Individuals who attend religious services frequently were less likely to engage in sexual infidelity (Amato & Rogers, 1997; Choi et al., 1994); whereas those who were less religious were more likely to engage in philandering (Whisman et al., 2007). There is no evidence, however, that religious denomination plays a role in tendency toward infidelity (Edwards & Booth, 1976; Forste & Tanfer, 1996). The relationship between religious activity and infidelity, however, is often moderated by other variables. Among African Americans and Hispanic Americans, more religious activity was associated with less sexual infidelity, but this association did not hold among Caucasian Americans (Choi et al., 1994). Atkins and colleagues (2001) found that religious participation lowered the risk of extramarital sex for individuals in “very happy” marriages, but not for those in “pretty happy” or “not too happy” marriages. Race and culture play a role in infidelity. Some work indicates that African Americans and Hispanic Americans were more likely than Whites to engage in infidelity (Amato & Rogers, 1997; Treas & Giesen, 2000). The higher rates for African Americans, however, may be due to the shortage of single men in the African American community, creating increased opportunities for married black men to engage in infidelity with single black women (Wiederman, 1997). Extramarital sex also appears to be more prevalent in some African societies than in Asian countries. For instance, in Guinea Bissau, 38% of men and 19% of women were found to have had extra-dyadic sex in the past year, compared with only 8% of men and 1% of women in Hong Kong (Carael, Cleland, Deheneffe, Ferry, & Ingham, 1995). In contrast, in a large sample of Japanese and American college-age participants, Tsapelas, Aron and colleagues (2009) did not find a culture difference in extra-dyadic relationships. Educational level plays a role in the frequency of infidelity. In many studies, infidelity has been associated with either lower levels of education (Treas & Giesen, 2000) or higher levels of education (Whisman & Snyder, 2007), suggesting that these statistics are dependent on contingent variables. For example, in a large U.S. national study of dating, cohabiting, and married women, Forste and Tanfer (1996) found that women who were more educated than their husbands were more likely to engage in sexual infidelity; but if the husband was more educated than the wife, she was less likely to philander. Level of education relative to that of the partner appears to be more important than absolute level of education. Income level and the distribution of income between partners is also related to infidelity. Atkins and colleagues (2001) found a positive relationship between income and extramarital sexual involvement among individuals with an annual income above $30,000. These researchers suggest that higher

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income leads to infidelity through its influence on factors such as opportunity, education, and feelings of entitlement. Further, lower income individuals may be financially dependent on their partners and thus regard infidelity as too risky to pursue. Individuals who work outside the home while their partners remain in the home also express higher rates of extramarital sexual involvement (Atkins et al., 2001), perhaps because the work environment provides the opportunity and time to get to know co-workers (Treas & Giesen, 2000). In clinical samples, 46% to 62% of individuals reported that they met their extramarital sexual partner at work (Glass, 2003; Wiggins & Lederer, 1984). The likelihood of extramarital involvement is also related to the degree to which an individual’s job involves touching clients, discussing personal concerns with colleagues or clients, or working alone with co-workers (Treas & Giesen, 2000). Liu (2000) found a positive relationship between opportunity and sexual infidelity among men. It is unclear, however, whether men actually create more opportunities for infidelity, respond to more opportunities for infidelity, or have fewer qualms about engaging in infidelity (Atkins, Yi, & Baucom, 2005). Duration of the primary relationship also plays a role in infidelity. Among dating, cohabiting and married couples, the longer the primary relationship continues, the more likely that sexual infidelity will occur (e.g., Forste & Tanfer, 1996; Hansen, 1987). Among married women, the likelihood of extramarital involvement peaks in the seventh year of marriage, then declines; but among married men, the likelihood of extramarital involvement decreases over time until the eighteenth year of matrimony, after which the likelihood of extramarital involvement increases (Liu, 2000). Similarly, in a sample of couples in therapy for infidelity, sexual infidelity first occurred after an average of seven years of marriage (Wiggins & Lederer, 1984). Lawson and Samson (1988) reported, however, that the length of marriage prior to initial sexual infidelity is decreasing with younger cohorts. Certain developmental stages in a marriage, including pregnancy and the months following the birth of a child, are also high risk times for infidelity among males (Allen & Baucom, 2001; Brown, 1991; Whisman et al., 2007). Last, age may make a difference in one’s inclination toward infidelity, although the data are contradictory. Recent, large, representative surveys indicate that the prevalence of sexual infidelity generally increases with age in America (Atkins et al., 2001; Wiederman, 1997); however, there are also seems to be an interaction between age and gender. In a sample of married American participants, women aged 40–45 and men aged 55–65 were more likely to report infidelity at some point in their lifetime. Individuals outside of these age ranges were less likely to have been unfaithful, and men and women younger than 40 did not differ significantly in their reported rates of infidelity. These data may not necessarily reflect age differences but rather cohort differences.

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BIOLOGICAL FACTORS ASSOCIATED WITH INFIDELITY The above data point to myriad psychological, sociological, and economic variables that play a role in the frequency and expression of infidelity. But one thing is clear: Infidelity is a worldwide phenomenon that occurs with remarkable regularity, despite near universal disapproval of this behavior. Moreover, regardless of the many correlations between relationship dissatisfaction and adultery, Glass and Wright (1985) reported that among individuals engaging in infidelity, 56% of men and 34% of women rate their marriage as “happy” or “very happy.” Why do men and women around the world engage in infidelity, despite the risks to their partnerships, children, social standing, financial well-being, and health? New data from genetics offer clues to some underlying biological mechanisms that may contribute to the worldwide frequency and persistence of infidelity. The most explanatory research has been collected on small monogamous mammals, prairie voles (Microtus ochrogaster). These individuals form pairbonds soon after puberty and maintain social monogamy throughout the life course, raising several litters as a team. Their pair-bonding behaviors include mutual territory defense and nest building, mutual feeding and grooming, maintenance of close proximity with one another, separation anxiety, shared parental chores and affiliative behaviors. Researchers have established that when prairie voles engage in sex, copulation triggers the activity of oxytocin (OT) in the nucleus accumbens among females and arginine vasopressin (AV) in the ventral pallidum among males, which then facilitates dopamine release in these reward regions and motivates females and males to prefer a particular mating partner, initiate pair-bonding and express attachment behaviors (Lim, Murphy, & Young, 2004; Williams, Insel, Harbaugh, & Carter, 1994; Young, Lim, Gingrich, & Insel, 2001). Other brain regions are involved in pair-bonding and attachment behaviors as well (Lim et al., 2004; Ross et al., 2009; Smeltzer, Curtis, Aragona, & Wang, 2006; Young, Huot, Nilson, Wang, & Insel, 1996), as are the brain’s opioid system (Moles, Kieffer, & D’Amato, 2004) and other neural systems (Kendrick, 2000). Nevertheless, research has clearly linked activity in the ventral pallidum associated with a specific distribution pattern of vasopressin (V1a) receptors with pair-bonding and attachment behaviors in monogamous male prairie voles (Lim et al., 2004; Lim & Young, 2004), and oxytocin (OT) activity in the nucleus accumbens with attachment behaviors in female prairie voles (Carter, 1992; Lim et al., 2004; Lim & Young, 2004; Winslow, Shapiro, Carter, & Insel, 1993; Young, Wang, & Insel, 1998). These data have been corroborated in other species. Promiscuous whitefooted mice and promiscuous rhesus monkeys do not form pair-bonds or express attachment behaviors for a mate, and these species do not express

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the same distribution of V1a receptors in the ventral pallidum (BesterMeredith, Young, & Marler, 1999; Wang et al., 1997; Young, 1999; Young, Winslow, Nilsen, & Insel, 1997). When Lim and colleagues (2004) transgenically inserted the genetic variant associated with pair-bonding in male prairie voles into the ventral pallidum of male meadow voles, an asocial promiscuous species, vasopressin receptors were up-regulated; these males also began to fixate on a particular female and mate exclusively with her, even when other females were available (Lim et al., 2004). When this gene was inserted into non-monogamous male mice, these creatures also began to exhibit attachment behaviors (Young, Nilsen, Waymire, MacGregor, & Insel, 1999). Most applicable to this chapter, polymorphisms in this gene in the vasopressin system contributed to the variability in the strength of monogamous pair-bonding among male prairie voles (Hammock & Young, 2002), including the degree to which they expressed sexual fidelity (Ophir, Wolff, & Phelps, 2008). Activity in the ventral pallidum has been linked with longer-term relationships in humans (Acevedo, Aron, Fisher, & Brown, 2008; Aron et al., 2005); and although the AVPR1A gene among Homo sapiens is not homologous to the one found in prairie voles, humans do have three polymorphic alleles in this genetic region. And recently Walum and colleagues (2008) investigated whether the various alleles in this genetic region affect pairbonding behavior in humans as they do in prairie voles. In this seminal study, 552 couples were examined, biologically, psychologically, and socially. All couples were either married or cohabiting for at least five years. The results were compelling. Men carrying the 334 allele in this region of the vasopressin system scored significantly lower on a questionnaire known as the Partner Bonding Scale, indicating fewer feelings of attachment to their spouse. Moreover, their scores were dose-dependent: Those carrying two of these alleles showed the lowest scores, followed by those carrying only one allele. Men carrying the 334 allele also experienced more marital crises (including threat of divorce) during the past year, and once again, these results were dose-dependent: Men with two copies of this allele were approximately twice as likely to have had a marital crisis than those who had inherited either one or no copies of this allele. Men with one or two copies of this allele were also significantly more likely to be involved in a relationship without being married. Last, the spouses of men with one or two copies of this allele scored significantly lower on questionnaires measuring marital satisfaction. This study did not measure infidelity directly, but it did measure several factors likely to contribute to infidelity. Another biological system contributes to infidelity. In the now classic “sweaty T-shirt” experiment, women sniffed the T-shirts of several anonymous men and selected the T-shirts of those they felt were the sexiest. Interestingly, they selected the T-shirts of men with different genes in a specific part of the

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immune system, the major histocompatibility complex (MHC) (Wedekind, Seebeck, Bettens, & Paepke, 1995). In a subsequent investigation, women married to men with similar genes in this part of the immune system were also more adulterous; and the more of these genes a woman shared with her spouse the more extra-dyadic partners she engaged (Garver-Apgar, Gangestad, Thornhill, Miller, & Olp, 2006), perhaps because similarity between partners in this part of the immune system can lead to complications in pregnancy and fertility (Garver-Apgar et al., 2006). Brain architecture may also contribute to infidelity. Fisher has proposed that Homo sapiens has evolved three primary brain systems that guide mating and reproduction: (1) the sex drive evolved to motivate individuals to seek copulation with a range of partners; (2) romantic love evolved to motivate individuals to focus their mating energy on specific partners, thereby conserving courtship time and metabolic energy; (3) partner attachment evolved to motivate mating individuals to remain together at least long enough to rear a single child through infancy (Fisher, 1998). These three basic neural systems interact with one another and many other brain systems in myriad flexible, combinatorial patterns to provide the range of motivations, emotions, and behaviors necessary to orchestrate our complex human reproductive strategy (Fisher, 2006; Fisher, Aron, & Brown, 2006; Fisher & Thomson, 2007). This flexible combinatorial system, however, makes it biologically possible to express deep feelings of attachment for one partner, while one feels intense romantic love for another individual, while one feels the sex drive for even more extra-dyadic partners (Fisher, 2004).

EVOLUTIONARY FORCES CONTRIBUTING TO INFIDELITY For decades scientists have believed that attachment behaviors are part of an innate mammalian attachment system that evolved to promote the survival of the young (Ainsworth, Behar, Waters, & Wall, 1978; Bowlby, 1969, 1973). Partner attachment, or pair-bonding, is common in avian species; 90% of more than 8,000 avian species practice pair-bonding to rear their young. Pairbonding is rare among mammals, however; only 3% of mammals form pairbonds to rear their young. Yet infidelity is also prevalent in over 100 species of monogamous birds and all mammalian species examined (Mock & Fujioka, 1990; Wittenberger & Tilson, 1980). Indeed, infidelity is so widespread and persistent in monogamous avian and mammalian species that scientists now refer to monogamous species as practicing “social monogamy,” in which partners display the array of social and reproductive behaviors associated with monogamy, while not necessarily displaying sexual fidelity to this partner as well. Among humans, Fisher (1992) refers to this phenom-

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enon as a dual reproductive strategy: We regularly appear to express a combination of life-long (or serial) social monogamy and, in many cases, clandestine adultery. Because philandering (in association with social monogamy) is so prevalent worldwide, because it is associated with a wide range of psychological and sociological factors, and because it is correlated with several biological underpinnings, it is parsimonious to propose that infidelity must have contributed to reproductive success during our long human prehistory. So several scientists have offered hypotheses about the selective value of infidelity. Evolutionary theorists have suggested that because women have greater parental investment in their offspring, including gestation and nursing, and men have more time and resources to devote to mating, women are obliged to compete for men and men have more opportunities to engage extra-dyadic partners (Buss & Schmitt, 1993). Although the reproductive benefits of sexual variety and infidelity in particular seem to be greater for men, evolutionary theory points to several reasons why infidelity may be adaptive for women as well. Buss (2000) has suggested that women may have a “back-up” mate to serve various functions (e.g., offer protection, resources) when the regular mate is not around. Similarly, women may use affairs as a means of “trading up” and finding a more desirable partner. Fisher (1992) has proposed that during prehistory, philandering males disproportionately reproduced, selecting for the biological underpinnings of the roving eye in contemporary men. Unfaithful females reaped economic resources from their extra-dyadic partnerships, as well as additional individual(s) to help with parenting duties if their primary partner died or deserted them. If they bore a child with this extramarital partnership they also increased the genetic variety in their forthcoming young. Buss’s (2000) “sexy sons” theory similarly suggests that by mating with attractive men, women increase their chances of bearing attractive sons who, in turn, will attract an above average number of women. In this way, these women gain a genetic edge on the competition and enhance their ultimate reproductive success. In short, infidelity had unconscious biological payoffs for both males and females throughout prehistory, thus perpetuating the biological underpinnings and a taste for infidelity in both sexes today.

FUTURE DIRECTIONS FOR INFIDELITY RESEARCH The study of infidelity has many methodological problems. Foremost, researchers need to be precise in how they define infidelity. And when comparing findings, they need to more consistently take into account the different meanings of philandering. Some researchers, for example, regard

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inappropriate flirting, sexual fantasies, and/or sexual or romantic exchanges on the Internet as infidelity. This lack of a clear definition of adultery can skew the data (Whitty, 2007). Indeed, older studies reported that men engaged in infidelity more frequently than women did; however recent investigations employing a broader measure of infidelity do not report these differences (Brand et al., 2007). Data collection also needs refinement. Whisman and Snyder (2007) found, for example, that the annual rates of infidelity were much higher when researchers interviewed participants via a computer questionnaire than when they employed face-to-face interviews. Samples are not representative of the general population, either. Most focus on White, middle-class heterosexual populations. Equally important, surveys and questionnaires do not address the problems of memory bias and ego maintenance. Participants often recall incidences of past infidelity inaccurately or distort the facts to suit their personal psychological and social needs. Collecting data from the spouse and the extra-dyadic partner would add considerable validity to these measures, as well as broaden the understanding of infidelity. Longitudinal studies in which researchers follow couples across their relationship or track daily diaries would also provide more detailed and accurate information on the causal relationships between many of the variables associated with infidelity. It would also be more effective to collect psychological and sociological data on infidelity in tandem with associated biological and genetic data. Finally, recent research has also begun to examine a potential starting point or marker for infidelity: Attention to alternative partners when one is already in a relationship (e.g., Maner, Gailliot, & Miller, 2009; Miller, 1997, 2008) and the factors that may influence this (e.g., commitment, love, and investments in the primary relationship). Future work in this area can help elucidate this important variable and inform infidelity research in new and exciting ways. It is well known that infidelity can result in family strife, divorce, violence, depression, and low self-esteem. Yet future research could also test some of the current hypotheses regarding the adaptive psychological and biological motivations underlying infidelity. The self-expansion model, for example, suggests that infidelity may result from insufficient self-expansion from one’s primary relationship and/or the desire to experience more varied forms of self-expansion, such as gaining access to a broader range of resources, skills, experiences, or perspectives. In this way, infidelity may function to expand the self in ways that are not possible within the primary relationship. Infidelity may also serve various positive communicative functions in the primary relationship. For instance, individuals may engage in infidelity in order to gain attention from the primary partner, or to indicate dissatisfaction with the primary relationship, or as a means of dissolving an unsatisfactory primary relationship (Tafoya & Spitzberg, 2007). Indeed, some research

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suggests some positive outcomes of infidelity, including the desire to improve one’s marital relationship (Hansen, 1987), the greater willingness to discuss and work out problems in the relationship (Roscoe, Cavanaugh, & Kennedy, 1988), and the tendency to place higher value on family and positive communication within the primary relationship (Olson, Russell, Higgins-Kessler, & Miller, 2002). Biological and anthropological perspectives suggest still other positive functional aspects of infidelity. Throughout evolutionary history, both men and women may have benefited from a dual reproductive strategy of social monogamy and sexual infidelity in order to enhance their reproductive success (Fisher, 1992). Women may still engage extra-dyadic partners as a preliminary step toward “trading up” to a better mate, or to maintain a “backup mate” for when their primary partner is absent (Buss, 2000), or as an unconscious strategy to bear a child with a man with superior genes or resources (Fisher, 1992); while contemporary men may still (unconsciously) engage in infidelity to acquire more offspring, or healthier offspring, or more varied offspring in their lineage (Fisher, 1992). Only with an integrative, comprehensive approach can scientists hope to assimilate the myriad complex variables associated with this prevalent and persistent human phenomenon: Infidelity.

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Relational Turbulence: What Doesn’t Kill Us Makes Us Stronger Denise Haunani Solomon and Jennifer A. Theiss

My life changes all the time. Things were diff’rent when you were mine. You loved me yesterday. Now these changes have come to stay. There have been changes, So many changes along the way. Roy Orbison, “Changes”

Change is the frequent subject of poetry, parables, and popular culture. Changes in close relationships can stem from a variety of sources, including individual growth, relationship development, or external circumstances. For example, romantic associations evolve as the individuals within them develop emotionally and intellectually or experience shifts in their life circumstances. In addition, romances follow their own trajectory of development, as partners build a shared history and increase interdependence by making a mutual commitment, choosing to cohabit or marry, or having children together. Finally, relationships can change because external forces, ranging from aging parents to economic recession, alter the social context within which romantic partnerships exist. Charles Darwin asserted, “It is not the strongest of the species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change.” Although Darwin was talking about biological organisms, his words apply equally well to romantic dyads. In our view, how couples weather the transitions they encounter over the lifespan of their relationship shapes the quality and

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durability of their association. When changes threaten or disrupt sources of satisfaction within a relationship, they can erode the very foundation of intimacy. On the other hand, changes can invite partners to increase their investment in the relationship, refine their strategies for maintaining individual and collective well-being, and deepen the bond between partners. Understanding how close relationship partners experience transitions, then, provides important insight into the trajectory of romantic associations. Our goal in this chapter is to illuminate transitions as turbulent and consequential episodes in romantic relationships. First, we examine the dark and bright sides of transitions and relational turbulence in close relationships. Second, we describe a theoretical perspective that we developed to explain the impact of transitions on personal and relational well-being, and we review the corresponding empirical research. Third, we offer an agenda for future research into the threats and opportunities created when romantic relationships experience change.

TRANSITIONS AND RELATIONAL TURBULENCE To understand the importance of transitions within close relationships, consider what it means to have a personal relationship in the first place. Prior to establishing a close relationship, two individuals who are merely acquainted with each other have lives that are largely independent. One person does not wonder about the other’s opinions, except perhaps in passing, and they both pursue their everyday goals and activities with little concern for the other. Forming a personal relationship requires the integration of these independent lives. Through self-disclosure, partners share personal details that create a sense of intimacy and build trust (Derlega, Metts, Petronio, & Margulis, 1993; Vittengl & Holt, 2000). Partners also involve each other in their daily routines, by scheduling activities together and helping each other to achieve personal goals (e.g., Huston, Surra, Fitzgerald, & Cate, 1981; Perlman & Fehr, 1987). As intimacy develops, partners come to see their identities as overlapping (Aron, Aron, Tudor, & Nelson, 1991), each person’s emotional experiences are affected by the partner (Berscheid, 1983, 1990), and they form integrated behavioral routines wherein the successful performance of everyday activities relies on both partners’ actions (Kelley et al., 1983). Within a close, personal relationship, then, partners are cognitively, emotionally, and behaviorally enmeshed. As romantic relationships evolve, the partners experience a variety of turning points and transitions. A transition is a response to changes in circumstances (Marineau, 2005). More specifically, transitions are movements from one stage to another (cf. Furstenberg, Rumbaut, & Settersten, 2005;

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Tomlinson, 1996). Within romantic associations, transitions can be necessitated by developments within an individual, within the dyad, or within the environment external to the partnership (see Surra, Arizzi, & Asmussen, 1988; Surra & Hughes, 1997). In any case, changes in circumstances decrease the effectiveness of the cognitive and behavioral connections between partners because those meshed systems are no longer attuned with the individual, relational, or external context for the relationship. Thus, previously functional ways of thinking and patterns of behavior must be revised to fit the new circumstances. Some transitions are quite notable, and the need to adapt is pressing. In the transition to parenthood, for example, each spouse must come to terms with a new identity as a parent, and the couple must adjust from a relationship between two partners to a marital dynamic that includes a child (Feeney, Hohaus, Noller, & Alexander, 2001; Kluwer & Johnson, 2007; Tomlinson, 1996). Less obvious transitions also call for adaptation, though couples may be slower to recognize that their established routines are not fitting their circumstances. For example, moving a child from one preschool to a location on the other side of town might affect a couple’s morning schedule, afterwork routine, and how they share household errands. Even in the face of seemingly minor changes, partners can experience transitions in how they think about, relate to, and interface with each other. Transitions inherently involve a degree of instability, as people alter their thoughts and actions in search of those that better fit with their new circumstances (cf. Walker, 2001). When a transition occurs, each spouse must individually navigate through changes they encounter (George, 1993), and they also have to consider the partner’s role and response to the transition. Thus, transitions spark what Burleson (2005) called a “doubly developmental” process: Individuals within relationships undergo change, while the relationship itself evolves. More generally, transitions can lead to changes in partners’ identities or how they see themselves, as well as their roles, behaviors, and expectations within their relationship (Berger & Bradac, 1982). Despite the instability they introduce, transitions can operate in both a negative and positive capacity. Transitions pose threats to personal and relational well-being if partners are debilitated in their efforts to adapt to new circumstances. Losing a job, for example, can threaten people’s occupational identity, change their partner’s view of them as a competent wage-earner, and present the dyad with financial challenges (Buzzanell & Turner, 2003). If partners are unable to re-establish esteem for self and other, as well as adaptive spending habits, this transition can create considerable anxiety and strain the partnership (see Kaufman & Uhlenberg, 1998). On the other hand, even a difficult transition may give partners the opportunity to affirm their commitment to each other and their ability to work together

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to solve life’s problems (cf. Knobloch & Solomon, 2002a). To continue the example, losing a job might enable people to pursue a new career path they have always dreamed about and to realize how supportive and encouraging their romantic partner can be. Thus, a successfully negotiated transition enhances the fit between relationship practices and relationship circumstances, reinforces partners’ confidence in their relationship, and constitutes an investment in the relationship that fosters commitment to the association (Rusbult & Buunk, 1993). Whether relational changes and transitions are experienced positively or negatively, they are always accompanied by some degree of turmoil. Relational turbulence refers to the instability and chaos that people experience when transitions render previously functional dyadic systems ineffective. As a metaphor, “turbulence” evokes the sensations that passengers on an airplane might experience on a bumpy flight. As the plane moves smoothly through the air, most passengers are oblivious to the efforts of the pilots and engines that keep the craft aloft. Sudden changes in altitude, however, create a state of intensified subjectivity wherein passengers become preoccupied with progress of the flight and they might experience feelings of anxiety. If the problem persists, the stress is taxing to the passengers and their liking for airplane travel could erode; if the problem is resolved, passengers experience relief and perhaps even appreciation for their pilot’s skill. In similar fashion, relational turbulence can be experienced as stressful, hectic, and consuming (e.g., Knobloch, 2007), and resolving sources of turbulence can foster feelings of intimacy (Theiss & Solomon, 2008). With this understanding of transitions and relational turbulence in place, the next section describes a theoretical framework that explains the experience of turbulence in romantic associations.

THE RELATIONAL TURBULENCE MODEL The relational turbulence model addresses the causes and consequences of turbulence during transitions within romantic relationships. The theory was developed to account for an empirical pattern apparent in a diversity of studies focused on nonmarital romantic associations (Solomon & Knobloch, 2001). In particular, studies using divergent methods, operationalizing intimacy in different ways, and focused on a variety of topics—including frequency of arguments (Braiker & Kelley, 1979; Christopher & Cate, 1985), conflict avoidance (Cloven & Roloff, 1994), the experience and expression of emotions (Aune, Aune, & Buller, 1994), verbal aggression (Billingham & Sack, 1987), indirect requests (Solomon, 1997), and nonverbal touching (Emmers & Dindia, 1995)—all pointed to an increase in the intensity of cognitive, emotional, and communicative experiences at moderate levels of

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intimacy. Accordingly, Solomon and Knobloch (2001) reflected on the experiences that surface as romantic relationships evolve from casual dating to a mutual and serious commitment, and positioned these phenomena as central mechanisms within the relational turbulence model. More recent instantiations of the theory have argued that these qualities emerge during any transition within romantic relationships (Solomon, Weber, & Steuber, 2010). In the sections that follow, we review the mechanisms featured within the theory, the assumptions advanced by the relational turbulence model, and empirical findings to date.

Relational Uncertainty At some point in the evolution of acquaintances into committed romantic partners, individuals grapple with questions about the relationship: “Are these feelings I’m having infatuation or love?” “Is my partner seeing anyone else?” “Is this the kind of relationship that can last?” (Knobloch & Solomon, 1999). When transitions occur later in a relationship’s lifespan, these questions can emerge again. For example, people whose family plans are altered by infertility might wonder if they want to stay in a relationship that cannot produce a biological child, they might question their partner’s desire to stay in that relationship, and they might worry about the future of their relationship (Steuber & Solomon, 2008). In general, then, transitions spark doubts about relationships because new circumstances lead people to wonder whether they are still invested in the relationship, whether their partner still values the association, and whether the relationship still has a future. Accordingly, the relational turbulence model identifies these sources of ambiguity as critical to transitions in romantic associations. Relational uncertainty indexes people’s (lack of) confidence in their perceptions of involvement in a relationship (Knobloch & Solomon, 1999, 2002a). In other words, it encompasses the doubts, ambiguities, and questions people have about a relationship. When people wonder about their own goals for the relationship or their own feelings about a partner, they are experiencing self uncertainty. To the extent that a partner’s investment in or commitment to a relationship is unclear, people experience partner uncertainty. And, if people’s questions focus on the status, nature, or future of the relationship itself, they are experiencing relationship uncertainty. Not surprisingly, self, partner, and relationship uncertainty are highly correlated, in part because ambiguities about one’s self and one’s partner both feed into relationship uncertainty (Knobloch & Solomon, 1999). At the same time, large sample measurement analyses indicate that these are three independent constructs (Knobloch, Miller, & Carpenter, 2007), and empirical studies have found that they differ in their associations with other variables (e.g.,

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McLaren, Solomon, & Priem, 2009a; Theiss & Solomon, 2006b). Thus, self, partner, and relationship uncertainty are distinct variegations within the experience of relational uncertainty. The theory proposes that relational uncertainty complicates transitions in romantic relationships by exacerbating reactions to events or experiences. According to the relational turbulence model, doubts and questions about a relationship prompt people to be especially vigilant in their effort to make sense of an ambiguous situation. And not unlike nervous passengers on a turbulent flight, relational uncertainty may lead people to assess their experiences in a more negative light. Within dating relationships, for example, relational uncertainty has been linked to making more negative evaluations of surprising events (Knobloch & Solomon, 2002b), appraising relational irritations as more serious and relationally threatening (Solomon & Knobloch, 2004; Theiss & Knobloch, 2009; Theiss & Solomon, 2006b), perceiving social networks as less supportive of the relationship (Knobloch & Donovan-Kicken, 2006), evaluating conversations with a partner more negatively (Knobloch & Solomon, 2005), and appraising hurtful remarks as more intentional and more damaging to the relationship (Theiss, Knobloch, Checton, & Magsamen-Conrad, 2009). With regard to emotional reactivity, relational uncertainty has been found to correspond positively with the intensity of jealous feelings (Afifi & Reichert, 1996; Knobloch, Solomon, & Cruz, 2001; Theiss & Solomon, 2006a), negative emotions evoked by surprising events (Knobloch & Solomon, 2002b), recent experiences of anger, sadness, and jealousy (Knobloch, Miller, & Carpenter, 2007), the intensity of hurt evoked by insensitive remarks (Theiss et al., 2009), and heightened negative emotions in general (Knobloch & Theiss, 2008). Relational uncertainty is also associated with more negative cognitive and emotional states within marriages or similar long-term commitments. In particular, Knobloch, Miller, Bond, and Mannone (2007a) documented a pessimism bias such that relational uncertainty was negatively associated with people’s perceptions of affiliation and involvement in their spouse’s messages. Among breast cancer patients, Weber and Solomon (2009) found that partner uncertainty was positively correlated with the number of cancerrelated stressors reported by women with breast cancer and that self uncertainty was positively correlated with the intensity of distress these women experienced. Weber and Solomon (2009) also documented positive associations between relational uncertainty and the extent to which women coping with breast cancer experienced feelings of anger, irritation, and sadness about stressful aspects of their illness. Theiss and Nagy (in press) surveyed married partners about their sexual relationship and found that individuals who experienced more relational uncertainty were less sexually satisfied and reported more negative emotions and cognitions following a recent sexual encounter with their partner.

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Not surprisingly, in light of the negative cognitions and emotions that coincide with relational uncertainty, people experiencing doubts about their relationship have difficulty communicating with their partner. Within dating relationships, relational uncertainty corresponds with more topic avoidance (Knobloch & Carpenter-Theune, 2004) and more indirect communication about irritations in a relationship (Theiss & Knobloch, 2009; Theiss & Solomon, 2006b), experiences of jealousy (Theiss & Solomon, 2006a), and hurtful episodes (Theiss et al., 2009). People experiencing relational uncertainty in dating relationships also produce date requests that are less fluent, friendly, or effective (Knobloch, 2006). Moreover, dating partners describe conversations with partners as more difficult and they have trouble drawing relational inferences from those conversations under conditions of relational uncertainty (Knobloch & Solomon, 2005). To the extent that breast cancer survivors experience relational uncertainty, they describe conversations with spouses about cancer-related stressors as considerably less positive and more negative (Weber & Solomon, 2009). In couples coping with infertility, wives’ relational uncertainty corresponds with a discrepancy in how much husbands and wives disclose details of their condition to social network members, and relational uncertainty is associated with husbands’ perceptions that their wife disapproves of their disclosures to their social network (Steuber, 2009). In addition, married partners who are relationally uncertain are more indirect when communicating with their spouse about sex (Theiss & Nagy, 2009). This body of research suggests a bleak outlook for people experiencing relational uncertainty. In the populations and circumstances studied to date, relational uncertainty appears to darken a person’s relational worldview, while it also exacerbates negative emotions and complicates communication between partners. Thus, to the extent that periods of transition raise questions about a relationship, relational uncertainty may constitute a considerable barrier to transcending change and re-establishing a functional bond. Does relational uncertainty doom partners to a downward spiral of negativity, bad feelings, and stunted communication? Although research on this point is limited, we think not. Knobloch and Solomon (2002a) argued that working with a partner to resolve uncertainty might have positive ramifications for individuals and their relationship. Theiss and Solomon (2008) tested this logic and found that dating partners who managed to communicate openly about their experiences of relational uncertainty subsequently reported increased intimacy in their relationship. The experience of uncertainty may even be beneficial for partners who prefer the novelty of a relationship that is unsettled and unpredictable (e.g., Baxter & Montgomery, 1996), or those who want to keep their bond ambiguous so that they can be open to alternatives. Even though relational uncertainty can produce a host of negative outcomes for relational partners, it also creates

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opportunities for people to test the resilience of their association, to build efficacy with their partner through communication, and to keep the bond exciting. Although the logic of the relational turbulence model suggests that the underlying qualities of the relationship predict people’s cognitions, emotions, and communication patterns, the causal ordering of these variables has yet to be fully tested (but see Knobloch & Theiss, in press; Theiss & Knobloch, 2009; Theiss & Solomon, 2006a). The model positions relational uncertainty as a catalyst for more extreme emotions, cognitions, and communication, but it is equally likely that people experiencing jealousy, feeling hurt, or struggling to communicate might experience more doubts about their relationship. In fact, some studies show that people report heightened relational uncertainty one week after experiencing jealousy (Theiss & Solomon, 2006a) and other negative emotions (Knobloch & Theiss, in press). Thus, more research is needed to clarify the causal ordering of the antecedents and outcomes in the relational turbulence model.

Interdependence Processes Along with resolving questions about each partner’s involvement in a relationship and the nature of the association itself, people in romantic relationships must also develop functional patterns of interdependence that help them to perform activities and meet their everyday goals. As partners incorporate each other into their daily routines, they come to rely on each other’s actions to achieve desired outcomes, they become less able to perform these functions individually, and they are negatively affected if the partner does not play his or her role. As intimacy grows, partners come to participate in each other’s lives in ways that facilitate each other’s outcomes (Knobloch & Solomon, 2004). What happens to interdependence during relationship transitions? Patterns of interdependence are beneficial to the extent they are responsive to the intrapersonal, interpersonal, and contextual conditions for the relationship; when circumstances change, previously functional patterns of behavior may become less effective. A change in one partner’s health status, for example, can disrupt everything from a couple’s division of household labor to how they express and experience sexual intimacy (Weber & Solomon, 2008). Thus, processes associated with establishing and renegotiating interdependence are a second mechanism featured by the relational turbulence model. Interdependence encompasses three interrelated processes (see Knobloch & Solomon, 2004). First, interdependent partners or those developing a new relationship allow each other to influence their everyday activities. Influence in this sense does not refer to power or dominance, but rather the partner’s

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ability to participate in and affect the performance of an activity. When a partner’s involvement makes an action more difficult to perform or prevents a desired outcome, individuals experience interference from a partner. For example, even a well-intentioned partner who picks up groceries after work or loads the dishwasher is a source of interference when favorite brands are overlooked or the dishwasher is loaded “incorrectly” and doesn’t fit all the dishes. In these examples, the partner’s actions have impeded the individual’s goals and perhaps made simple tasks more difficult. In contrast, if a partner makes a task easier to perform or promotes goal achievement, people experience facilitation from a partner. In the case of the previous examples, a partner who asks for a specific grocery list or hand-washes the dishes that do not fit in the dishwasher facilitates an individual’s goals of having desirable food in the house and clean dishes. Although interference and facilitation seemingly displace each other, in practice they share a positive bivariate correlation because both escalate as partners in a relationship increasingly influence each other’s activities and everyday goals (Knobloch & Solomon, 2004; McLaren, Solomon, & Priem, 2009b; Solomon & Theiss, 2008). In this way, interference and facilitation are the binary facets of interdependence in close relationships. The relational turbulence model emphasizes how interference from a partner disrupts the smooth operation of behavioral sequences and undermines goal achievement. Hence, the theory predicts that interference corresponds with more negative evaluations of relationship circumstances. Consistent with this reasoning, increased interference from a partner has been linked to appraisals of irritating behaviors (such as leaving pajamas on the bathroom floor, chewing with an open mouth, making sarcastic remarks, snoring, or failing to recognize a partner’s hard work) as more severe and relationally threatening (Solomon & Knobloch, 2004; Theiss & Knobloch, 2009; Theiss & Solomon, 2006b). In addition, people interpret hurtful messages as more intentional and more damaging to the relationship when their partner has been interfering in daily routines (Theiss et al., 2009). Individuals also tend to perceive that members of their social network are hindering the relationship under conditions of partner interference (Knobloch & Donovan-Kicken, 2006). Among breast cancer patients, interference from a partner corresponds with perceiving more cancer-related stressors and increased distress about those circumstances (Weber & Solomon, 2009). Finally, married couples who perceived heightened interference from a partner report decreased sexual satisfaction and more negative cognition following sexual contact (Theiss & Nagy, in press). Theories that explain the experience of emotions suggest that interruptions to goal-directed behavior are also emotionally evocative (e.g., Berscheid, 1983). Consistent with that assumption, empirical work indicates that interference from partners corresponds with intensified emotional

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experiences. For example, interference from partners is positively correlated with emotional jealousy (Theiss & Solomon, 2006a) and with the experience of general negative emotion (Knobloch, Miller, Bond, et al., 2007; Knobloch & Theiss, 2008). People also find insensitive remarks to be more hurtful under conditions of partner interference (Theiss et al., 2009). Married partners who experience partner interference report more anger and sadness following sexual intimacy (Theiss & Nagy, in press). Finally, among breast cancer patients, partner interference is positively associated with feeling scared, angry, irritated, and sad about stressful aspects of the illness (Weber & Solomon, 2009). As in the case of relational uncertainty, experiences of interference can complicate communication between romantic partners. Under conditions of partner interference, individuals use less inclusive language that is marked by fewer dyadic pronouns (Knobloch & Solomon, 2003). Partners experiencing interference from each other also have conversations that are less coordinated and contain fewer affiliative messages (Knobloch, 2008), and they engage in more direct confrontations regarding irritating circumstances in a relationship (Theiss & Solomon, 2006b). Among breast cancer patients, conversations about stressors related to the illness are more negative when individuals perceive interference from a partner (Weber & Solomon, 2009). Similarly, when women who are coping with infertility perceive their husband as interfering in their daily goals and routines, they are more likely to disapprove of how he communicates about their infertility to people outside the marriage (Steuber, 2009). As these results illustrate, people are especially reactive to relational circumstances when a partner is interfering in their ability to accomplish personal goals and routines. Although partner interference can be frustrating for individuals and it corresponds with less positive communication experiences, it can instigate beneficial processes. Interference from a partner points to areas in which a relationship could function more efficiently. By identifying problem spots in the relationship, partners can work to establish more coordinated action plans. Not only does improved coordination facilitate goal achievement, it builds efficacy as partners learn to confront problems in the relationship and work together to identify mutually satisfying solutions. In this sense, addressing experiences of interference is akin to conflict management in personal relationships: It isn’t the frequency of conflict in a close relationship, so much as the communication and affect that accompany conflict discussions, that chart the future course of relationship partners (e.g., Gottman & Levenson, 1999). And just as positive affective exchanges can offset the deleterious implications of negative affective exchanges (Gottman, Swanson, & Swanson, 2002), experiences of facilitation may soften the consequences of interference from a partner. Thus, partner interference may give rise to turbulence during relational transitions in the short term, but

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partners who can transcend the disruptions and establish solutions can see long-term relational benefits.

Relational Turbulence Our discussion of relational uncertainty and interference from a partner thus far in this chapter highlights how transitions in relationships can create instability, reactivity, and a sense of chaos. The experience of turbulence is at the conceptual heart of the relational turbulence model—it is a product of conditions that raise questions about the relationship and compromise smooth patterns of behavioral interdependence, and it underlies more extreme cognitive, emotional, and communicative experiences. In practice, most tests of the relational turbulence model have equated turbulence with the polarized emotional, cognitive, and communicative experiences previously reviewed (e.g., Knobloch, Miller, Bond, et al., 2007; Solomon & Knobloch, 2004; Theiss & Solomon, 2006a). Four recent studies, however, shed more direct light on the causes and consequences of relational turbulence within dating relationships. Knobloch (2007) operationalized relational turbulence using three different methods: (1) self-report ratings on adjectives such as chaotic, hectic, and stressful (see also Knobloch & Theiss, 2008); (2) coder ratings of the presence of turbulence, instability, and negativity in people’s narrative description of their relationship; and (3) the self-reported prevalence of relationship-focused thought. In subsequent work, McLaren et al. (2009a, 2009b) drew upon Knobloch’s self-report instrument and developed semantic-differential scales (e.g., chaotic–stable, calm–turbulent, tumultuous–running smoothly, peaceful– stressful) to measure relational turbulence. These operationalizations reflect the conceptualization of relational turbulence as a sense of instability, a preoccupation with the relationship, and the experience of stress and vigilance. The relational turbulence model assumes that turbulence increases when people have relational uncertainty or experience interference from a partner. Knobloch (2007) found inconsistent associations between relational uncertainty and her measures of relational turbulence, but perceptions of interference from a partner were positively associated with all three measures. In Knobloch and Theiss (2008), both relational uncertainty and experiences of partner interference were positively associated with Knobloch’s (2007) self-report measure of relational turbulence. McLaren et al. (2009b)

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documented positive associations between relational turbulence and self, partner, and relationship uncertainty, and McLaren et al. (2009a) observed those effects for self and relationship uncertainty. McLaren et al. (2009b) also demonstrated that relational turbulence is positively associated with interference from a partner and negatively associated with perceptions that a partner facilitates everyday activities and goals. Within this set of studies examining relational turbulence, per se, three have considered consequences that emerge when people describe their relationship as chaotic, hectic, or tumultuous. Knobloch and Theiss (2008) used a longitudinal research design and collected information from both partners to show the reciprocal effects of relational turbulence on subsequent relational uncertainty and perceptions of interference from a partner. That study showed that one partner’s self-reported experience of relational turbulence corresponded with an increase in the other partner’s relational uncertainty and partner interference one week later. These findings illustrate how the stress and turmoil experienced by one person can disrupt a relationship by affecting a partner’s confidence in the association and his or her goal directed behavior. A pair of studies by McLaren and her colleagues (2009a, 2009b) examined the effect of relational turbulence on experiences of hurt. McLaren et al. (2009b) asked participants to complete measures of relational uncertainty, interference and facilitation from a partner, and relational turbulence before they responded to several hypothetical scenarios that depicted a dating partner communicating hurtful messages. The results of structural equation modeling showed that relational uncertainty, partner interference, and partner facilitation predicted relational turbulence, as previously described. Moreover, relational turbulence was positively associated with the severity of hurt, intensity of negative feelings, and perceptions of intentionality that participants associated with the hypothetical scenarios. Although this study is limited in scope to the phenomenon of hurt, the results suggest that the previously documented associations between the relational uncertainty and partner interference and various cognitive, emotional, and communicative outcomes might be mediated by people’s perceptions of the general level of turbulence in their relationship. In a second study (McLaren et al., 2009a), individuals reported on characteristics of their relationship, including relational turbulence, and then engaged in two laboratory interactions about their core values and traits with their dating partner. Unbeknownst to the participant, the dating partner was coached to be supportive of the core value or trait discussed in the first interaction, but to disagree with or disconfirm the quality discussed in the second interaction. Following the second interaction, participants described the relational messages they perceived in the interaction, as well as their experience of hurt, other negative emotions, and attributions of inten-

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tionality for the hurtful episode. Structural equation modeling analyses showed that relational uncertainty and interference from a partner predicted relational turbulence and, for males, relational turbulence was significantly associated with perceptions of their partners’ dominance and disaffiliation, which in turn predicted their severity of hurt, intensity of negative feelings, and perceptions of greater hurtful intent. These results suggest that a turbulent relationship context can shape message processing in ways that have consequences for emotional and cognitive outcomes. Only a few studies to date have taken up the question of how relational turbulence, per se, contributes to people’s cognitive, emotional, and communication experiences within romantic relationships. Although limited in both number and focus, these studies align with the assumptions of the relational turbulence model. Namely, experiencing doubts or questions about one’s own involvement in the relationship, a partner’s involvement, or the relationship itself contributes to a general sense of instability, chaos, and turmoil. In turn, relational turbulence can spark doubts and disruptions for a partner or exacerbate negative reactions to hurtful interactions. These studies provide initial evidence of the dark consequences of relational turbulence in romantic dyads, but they do little to illuminate the potential benefits of turbulence for close relationships. We consider this unresolved question, as well as others, as we discuss the directions for future research on relational turbulence.

AGENDA FOR FUTURE RESEARCH The research reviewed in this chapter is consistent with the relational turbulence model’s assumption that relational uncertainty and interference from partners are catalysts for cognitive, emotional, and communicative reactivity in relationships. Although this central premise has been supported, other aspects of the theory require further testing. Research to date highlighted more generally the ramifications of relational uncertainty and facets of interdependence to the neglect of the broader landscape of transitions within close relationships. In the sections that follow, we outline three avenues for future research on transitions, turbulence, and experiences within romantic relationships.

Refining Our Understanding of Transitions and Turbulence The inspiration for much of the research we reviewed was the realization that romantic partners have pronounced experiences when the intrapersonal, interpersonal, and external contexts for a relationship change. In previous

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research, relationship-changing events have been conceptualized as turning points, which are discrete experiences, such as meeting a partner’s parents, engaging in sexual intercourse, or having the first big fight (e.g., Baxter & Bullis, 1986; Siegert & Stamp, 1994), that benchmark relational change. Within the relational turbulence model, the emphasis is on the process of transformation that occurs, perhaps in response to a turning point event, as partners continuously negotiate their involvement in the relationship. Theorizing about the relational turbulence model to date has given greater attention to the consequences of transitions and turbulence within romantic relationships, and less to conceptualizations of a transition or, until recently, relational turbulence. Because these two concepts are central to understanding change in relationships, they merit closer attention. Within the day-to-day ebb and flow of romantic relationships, what constitutes a transition? In developing the relational turbulence model, Solomon and Knobloch (2001) focused on the development of a dating relationship from casual to one characterized by a serious and mutual commitment. Other work has focused on the diagnosis of breast cancer (Weber & Solomon, 2008) and the experience of infertility (Steuber & Solomon, 2008) as relationship-changing events. Within these experiences, can we identify the period of transition? For example, infertility is not formally diagnosed unless a couple has been unable to conceive a child after a year of trying, and efforts to produce a biological child can consume a couple for more than a decade. As the threat to family plans gradually emerges and becomes real for a couple, at what point do partners experience a relational transition? Without doubt, close relationships are subject to numerous changes, ranging from getting a new car to having a new baby, that act upon the partnership in minor or major ways. Our efforts to understand the implications of change, and how relationships weather those changes, require a better understanding of the phenomenological experience of transitions within romantic relationships. The notion of relational turbulence likewise merits further development. Knobloch (2007) operationalized this construct using three different measures, which diverged in their associations with relational uncertainty. Subsequent studies (Knobloch & Theiss, 2008; McLaren et al., 2009a, 2009b) have privileged a self-report measure of the degree of turmoil, stress, and chaos in the relationship. These measures appropriately locate relational turbulence within individuals, emphasizing their sense of stability or instability in the association; however, a more thorough assessment of these measures and their validity is wanting. To the extent that relational turbulence indexes an important quality of relationships, and one that is distinct from features such as satisfaction, commitment, or intimacy, the development of a measure of relational turbulence could be an important contribution to the study of close relationships.

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Studying Transitions Beyond Courtship The majority of the studies reviewed in this chapter focused on relational uncertainty and facets of interdependence in the context of college dating relationships. Understanding these romances is important because college students are in a phase of life where they are forming their expectations and norms for adult behavior (Arnett, 2000). Moreover, experiences during courtship can affect the course of subsequent marriages (e.g., Surra et al., 1988). Beyond courtship, changes continue to occur over the lifespan of an individual and a romantic relationship, and how partnerships traverse those changes can influence personal and relational well-being. Hence, we see studying transitions beyond courtship to be a valuable direction for future research. As noted earlier in this chapter, recent studies have looked beyond the context of dating relationships to focus on life experiences where relational turbulence might be prominent, such as coping with breast cancer (Weber & Solomon, 2008, 2009) and infertility (Steuber, 2009; Steuber & Solomon, 2008). As we look to the future, we can identify several other experiences that can instigate transitions and generate turbulence within long-term relationships. From the transition to parenthood to the return to an “empty nest,” children are a source of many significant changes in a marital relationship. In addition, changes in employment, such as getting a new job or promotion, being laid off, and retirement, are life dynamics that have implications for romantic dyads. People must also adjust to both mundane and significant changes in each partner’s physical, sexual, and cognitive functioning. The rich tapestry of life yields many opportunities for examining how romantic partners adapt individually and collaboratively to change. One particular direction for research on transitions beyond courtship is a greater focus on changes that are desired, welcomed, or celebrated by relationship partners. To date, research on the relational turbulence model has tended to focus on the dark side of relational transitions and traumatic changes in the form of cancer and infertility. What happens when relationships undergo transitions, such as the birth of a child, that are joyfully anticipated? To the extent that both dark and bright transitions require partners to adjust how they relate to each other, both types of change have the potential to create turmoil and turbulence as well. For example, the very joyful experience of military soldiers returning home from deployment also presents couples with the challenge of renegotiating interdependence and reasserting closeness after a long absence. Thus, we see benefits in future work that examines both dark and bright transitions beyond courtship.

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Understanding the Resolution of Turbulent Transitions The studies reviewed in this chapter convincingly link relational uncertainty and facets of interdependence to a myriad of cognitive, emotional, and communicative phenomena. What remains less clear, however, is how partners can respond to relational turbulence in ways that resolve periods of turmoil and promote individual and relational well-being. Although limited in number, longitudinal research designs shed some light on this issue. These studies have shown that open communication about relational uncertainty (Theiss & Solomon, 2008), jealousy (Theiss & Solomon, 2006a), and sexual intimacy (Theiss & Nagy, 2009) can have a positive impact on the level of intimacy and satisfaction within a relationship. We see building on this work to clarify the factors that shape the resolution of relational turbulence to be an important direction for future research. Efforts to understand the resolution of relational turbulence can consider both individual and dyadic parameters. For example, we wonder if personality variables, including tolerance for uncertainty, attachment style, or risk-taking, might shape the extent to which people find relational transitions disruptive, their motivation for addressing relational turbulence, and the communicative behaviors they use to transcend periods of change. Dyadic data (e.g., Knobloch & Theiss, 2008; Theiss & Knobloch, 2009; Theiss et al., 2009; Theiss & Nagy, in press, 2009) can also shed light on how the interplay of each partner’s relational uncertainty and experiences of interference can create a relational system entrenched in turmoil or open to the resolution of turbulence. Additional work on communication about relational uncertainty and interdependence can expand beyond the previous focus on communicative openness or valence to consider how messages that convey dominance or affiliation (see McLaren et al., 2009a) and responsiveness or indifference can shape the resolution of relational turbulence. As these examples illustrate, there is much to be done to understand people’s responses to the turbulence that emerges during times of change. Throughout this chapter, we have maintained that transitions carry the potential for both dark and bright relationship outcomes. These two possibilities are captured in the words of psychologist and self-help author M. Scott Peck (2000, p. 23), who wrote: The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.

Work to date has documented the discomfort, negative emotions, and difficulties that may emerge during times of change. To complement this body of work, we look forward to research exploring how transitions in

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romantic relationships, and the turbulence they can generate, propel relationship partners toward ways of relating that deepen the bonds of intimacy.

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Steuber, K. R., & Solomon, D. H. (2008). Relational uncertainty, partner interference, and infertility: A qualitative study of online discourse. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 25, 831–855. Surra, C. A., Arizzi, P., & Asmussen, L. A. (1988). The association between reasons for commitment and the development and outcome of marital relationships. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 4, 47–63. Surra, C. A., & Hughes, D. K. (1997). Commitment processes in accounts of the development of premarital relationships. Journal of Marriage & the Family, 59, 5–21. Theiss, J. A., & Knobloch, L. K. (2009). An actor-partner interdependence model of the experience and expression of irritations in romantic relationships. Communication Research, 36, 510–536. Theiss, J. A., Knobloch, L. K., Checton, M., & Magsamen-Conrad, K. (2009). Relationship characteristics associated with the experience of hurt in romantic relationships: A test of the relational turbulence model. Human Communication Research, 35, 588–615. Theiss, J. A., & Nagy, M. E. (in press). A relational turbulence model of reactions to sexual intimacy within marriage. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships. Theiss, J. A., & Nagy, M. E. (2009, November). Relationship characteristics associated with the openness of communication about sexual intimacy in marital relationships. A paper presented at the meeting of the National Communication Association, Chicago, IL. Theiss, J. A., & Solomon, D. H. (2006a). Coupling longitudinal data and hierarchical linear modeling to examine the antecedents and consequences of jealousy experiences in romantic relationships: A test of the relational turbulence model. Human Communication Research, 32, 469–503. Theiss, J. A., & Solomon, D. H. (2006b). A relational turbulence model of communication about irritations in romantic relationships. Communication Research, 33, 391–418. Theiss, J. A., & Solomon, D. H. (2008). Parsing the mechanisms that increase relational intimacy: The effects of uncertainty amount, open communication about uncertainty, and the reduction of uncertainty. Human Communication Research, 34, 625–654. Tomlinson, P. (1996). Marital relationship change in the transition to parenthood: A reexamination as interpreted through transition theory. Journal of Family Nursing, 2, 286–305. Vittengl, J. R., & Holt, C. S. (2000). Getting acquainted: The relationship of selfdisclosure and social attraction to positive affect. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 17, 53–66. Walker, A. (2001). Trajectory, transition and vulnerability in adult medical-surgical patients: A framework for understanding in-hospital convalescence. Contemporary Nursing, 11, 206–216. Weber, K. M., & Solomon, D. H. (2008). Locating relationship and communication issues among stressors associated with breast cancer. Health Communication, 23, 548–559. Weber, K. M., & Solomon, D. H. (2009). Relational uncertainty, partner interference, and emotional and communicative responses to cancer stressors. Manuscript under review.

9

In-Laws or Outlaws? The Dark and the Bright in In-Law Relationships Mary Claire Morr Serewicz and Rebecca A. Hosmer

In terms of negative reputation and stereotyping, the mother-in-law could probably give the wicked stepmother of fairytale fame a run for her money (see Chapter 10, this volume). The dark side of in-law relationships is readily apparent in popular culture, from films such as Monster-in-Law to websites featuring in-law horror stories. The topic of relating with in-laws has been the focus of countless artifacts of popular culture, and the majority of the allusions have been negative. Beginning with movies, the pessimistic references to in-laws span culture and time: Monster-in-Law (2005 American movie), My Mother-in-Law is an Atomic Bomb (1952 Egyptian movie), Haunted by His Mother-in-Law (1913 British movie), Tormented by His Mother-in-Law (1908 French movie), The Impossible Son-in-Law (1959 Chinese movie), A Remedy for Mothers-in-Law (1913 Romanian movie), and an American television series called Murder in Law (1989). One cannot help but notice that a negative tone underlies all these titles, and this negativity does not pertain only to television and movies. A survey of the most current books available on the topic of in-laws also reveals an overwhelmingly derogatory perspective. Titles include phrases such as “Toxic In-Laws” (Forward, 2002), “Survival” (Bowditch & Samet, 2002), “Forced to be Family” (Dellasega, 2007), “Deal with Your Mother-inLaw” (Allinson, 2004), “Survive Your In-Laws” (Heads & Syrtash, 2007), and “Driving You Crazy” (Lang, 1992). Only a few titles have any hint of positive

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connotation, in phrases such as “Love, Hate, Rivalry, and Reconciliation” (Shapiro Barash, 2001), and “Becoming Friends with Your In-Laws” (Chapman, 2008). Though this list of book titles is clearly not exhaustive, the overall tone of negativity is undeniable. Moving to popular magazine publications, in Good Housekeeping, Kaufman (2003) describes the famously fractious relationship between a wife and her mother-in-law, “for years, the nagging interfering mother-in-law has been a stock figure in comic routines, movies, and TV shows” (p. 236). An article in Men’s Health includes the “nagging mother-in-law” as one of the “6 people who complicate your life and how to make them go away” (Hobday, 2005, p. 20). The idea was put forward that perhaps mothers-in-law harass women with the intention of preventing adultery, but eventually Hobday (2005) concluded that the suppositions do not make evolutionary sense, so the “mother-in-law effect remains a bit of a mystery” (p. 156). The Economist (2002) took the negativity to the extreme by reporting a study from Germany that suggested that mothers-in-law have fatal impacts on their grandchildren. The article discussed a study that found that if the paternal grandmother of a child was alive, the child’s probability of dying before two months of age doubled. The extreme inference was shown to be invalid, but, nevertheless, the provocative argument was printed, and certainly garnered much attention—thereby promoting negative views of in-law relationships. The trend for popular culture venues to portray in-law relationships in a derogatory manner continues in more modern media outlets such as websites, blogs, and discussion boards. The entire website www.ihatemyinlaws. com is dedicated to stories contributed by readers discussing the details of why they hate their in-laws. The website’s tag line is “where hating your inlaws is fun,” and with more than 1,000 pages of reader-submitted stories, spanning over nine years, there are apparently plenty of people willing to share the dark side of their in-law relationships. Frustrated in-laws can also blog about their situations at www.motherinlawhell.com, a site that logs over 100,000 hits each day. It is no wonder, then, that people may have many negative assumptions about in-law relationships before those relationships even begin. With movies, magazines, books, websites, and other outlets all touting the downsides of in-laws, we may be left to wonder what the research really shows. Do such fanatical views reflect a bit of reality? Or is the negativity blown out of proportion for dramatic effect? The following chapter takes a look at existing research in the area of in-law relationships. How dark is the dark side of inlaw relationships?

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THE BRIGHT SIDE Before delving into the dark side of in-law relationships in greater depth, we should acknowledge that the context of in-law relationships does include a bright side. Goetting (1990) has documented the supportive relationship among couples and their parents/parents-in-law, with parents and parentsin-law supplying major emotional and instrumental support (e.g., financial assistance and childcare) in the early years of marriage, and children and children-in-law supplying emotional and instrumental support (e.g., caregiving) as parents and parents-in-law age. Positive relationships with inlaws also provide benefits in the stability and quality of marriage (see, for example, Morr, 2002; Timmer & Veroff, 2000). Many of the specific instances of dark-side issues in in-law relationships exist in relationship to a bright side. For instance, though a mother-in-law’s non-accommodation reduces her daughter-in-law’s perception of their shared family identity among in-laws, the mother-in-law’s supportive communication has the opposite effect (Rittenour & Soliz, 2009). Where rejection of a child-in-law negatively impacts the parent–child and parent-in-law/child-in-law relationships, acceptance of the child-in-law can strengthen those bonds (Golish, 2000; Morr Serewicz, Hosmer, Ballard, & Griffin, 2008). With the broader context in mind, exploring the dark side of in-law relationships allows researchers to understand the challenges inherent in the in-law relationship. This chapter will, first, address some of the ways that theory has been applied to in-law relationships before considering major research findings in specific aspects of in-law relationships. Finally, we discuss scholars’ arguments about the root causes of difficulty in negotiating the inlaw relationship and propose directions for future research.

THEORIES Recent research has employed many theoretical perspectives in the study of in-law interaction. Rather than provide a thorough summary of each relevant theory, this section will highlight the primary constructs and principles from a sampling of relevant theories that have been applied recently to the investigation of in-law relationships.

Evolutionary Theory Research investigating in-law relationships has, in some cases, used an evolutionary perspective, with affection exchange theory (AET) (Floyd, 2006) as one specific example of an evolutionary approach (see Chapter 6, this

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volume). AET is based on the premise that people are motivated to survive and to pass on their genes. Chances of survival can be enhanced by support from one’s social network, including family members in general and in-laws specifically. In addition, because biological siblings share 50% of their genes in common, supporting one’s sibling (and sibling-in-law) can enhance the chances of the continuation of one’s genes, albeit more indirectly than passing on one’s own genes through procreation of one’s own biological children. The promotion of fertility and the continuation of one’s genes would apply only for in-laws with a genetic tie in common—that is, a father can promote continuation of his genes by supporting a biological son and daughter-in-law, who may produce biological children of their own. A sister can promote continuation of her genes by supporting her brother and sisterin-law, but a woman generally does not promote the continuation of her own genes by supporting her husband’s siblings. In general, the role that siblingsin-law play in each other’s viability (survival) and fertility (reproduction) is likely minimal in comparison to other family relationships (Floyd & Morr, 2003). In-law relationship research using an evolutionary perspective (e.g., Floyd & Morr, 2003; Yoshimura, 2009) tends to predict greater closeness and positivity in relationships that exert a more direct influence on one’s own chances of survival and reproduction than in those that exert a less direct influence. By the same token, those in close relationships sometimes compete for these same resources, as in the situation of siblings who compete for parental support. In general, research on in-law relationships from an evolutionary perspective considers aspects of the relationship that are affected by relational partners’ common or competing evolutionary interests.

Communication Privacy Management Theory Communication privacy management theory (CPM; Petronio, 2002) holds great potential for understanding in-law relationships. Research employing this theoretical approach (e.g., Morr Serewicz & Canary, 2008; Norwood & Webb, 2006) has drawn primarily upon the theory’s metaphor of boundaries as markers of ownership and control of information. The theory’s concepts of boundary coordination and family privacy rule orientation are particularly relevant to in-law relationships. The theory asserts that many groups operate through a system of unified boundary coordination, in which the entire group shares private information (defined as information the group owns and controls) within a common boundary (Petronio, 2002). A new member joining a group with unified boundary coordination is granted access and coownership rights of that shared information. Thus, a new in-law who marries into a family may be granted access to the information that family shares in common as a signal of his or her status as a member of the family. The process

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may vary, though, in relation to the family privacy rule orientation held by the family and the family’s new member. CPM asserts that families develop overarching orientations toward privacy that describe their values concerning openness to those inside and outside the family’s boundary (Petronio, 2002). For instance, a family with a highly permeable interior orientation shares its information freely among members of the family, and a family with a low-permeability exterior orientation carefully protects its private information from outsiders. The orientation of the family, as well as the orientation the new in-law learned in his or her family of origin, is likely to influence the process of granting access to the family’s information to the new in-law. For instance, a family with a low-permeability interior orientation may be quite slow to share its private information with a new member. If the new in-law also came from a family with a low-permeability interior orientation, then that slow process in which little private information is ultimately shared is likely to be comfortable for both the family and the new member. If, however, the new in-law was raised in a family that had a highly permeable interior orientation, receiving very little private information at a slow pace is likely to be dissatisfying and may lead him or her to question whether the family truly regards him or her as a true member of the family. Research using this theoretical approach has investigated topics significant to this socialization process and outcomes of disclosure for the in-law, family, and marital relationships (e.g., Morr Serewicz & Canary, 2008).

Communication Accommodation Theory Research treating in-law relationships as intergroup relationships has taken the perspective of communication accommodation theory (CAT) to address communication between groups (Giles, Coupland, & Coupland, 1991). CAT deals with the ways that individuals engage in convergence (i.e., adapting to the conversation partner’s communicative behaviors) or divergence (i.e., emphasizing differences between their own and their conversation partner’s communicative behavior) in their communication with a conversation or relational partner (Giles et al., 1991). “Convergent communicative acts reduce interpersonal distance” (Giles et al., 1991, p. 8), but divergent acts increase distance. CAT has been used to investigate intergroup interaction, and, from this perspective, in-laws are members of different groups, and communicative behaviors of individuals from different groups range from accommodative (i.e., convergent) to non-accommodative (i.e., divergent). Accommodative communication takes into account the communication patterns and preferences of the interaction partner (e.g., talking about topics of interest to the other person) and is generally perceived positively (Rittenour & Soliz, 2009). Non-accommodative communication, on the other

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hand, disregards the communicative patterns and preferences of the interaction partner (e.g., talking about topics not of interest to the other person), and is generally perceived negatively (Rittenour & Soliz, 2009). Accommodative/non-accommodative communication, then, is likely to influence the perceived group differences between in-laws, in that, for instance, non-accommodation emphasizes the differences between in-laws, reinforcing the perception that they do not share a group, or family, identity. Shared family identity, in turn, is likely to promote positive relational outcomes (Rittenour & Soliz, 2009). In-law research based in CAT highlights issues important to the often-cited ambiguity of in-law relationships in which an in-law is simultaneously both a member of the family and an outsider (e.g., Fischer, 1986).

Feminist Approaches Feminist research on in-law relationships has taken the perspective that daughters-in-law’s perspectives have been marginalized in the literature (e.g., Cotterill, 1994; Pini, 2007). Such research typically emphasizes the voices of mothers-in-law and (particularly) daughters-in-law, through in-depth interviews with women engaged in in-law interactions. This approach to inlaw research argues that family relationships among women have been treated peripherally in the scholarly literature (Cotterill, 1994). Cotterill points out that many aspects of family life have been neglected or taken for granted in research due to the ideology that family relationships are natural. Her work has applied a feminist perspective to illuminate “how people’s relationships are structured by their positions in the family network and how those relationships are supported and maintained within the context of private and public notions of family life” (Cotterill, 1994, p. 2). Similarly, Pini (2007) approached the position of the daughter-in-law in Australian farm families by considering the discourses that construct and position the subject in society, culture, and history. These discourses have operated in gendered ways to influence women’s position and actions within the family, though Pini (2007) also emphasizes women’s agency to contest these discourses. In this way, a feminist perspective allows for the examination of the ways that discourses have constructed the role and position of a daughter-in-law (Pini, 2007) or a mother-in-law (Cotterill, 1994) in the family.

Triangular Theory In 2008, Morr Serewicz outlined a new theory specific to the communication and relationships of in-laws. The scope conditions of the triangular theory of

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the communication and relationships of in-laws specify in-law relationships in the context of intact marital bond and familial bonds (i.e., the theory does not apply to, for instance, a mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship in which the mother-in-law and her son are estranged). The theory outlines four assumptions and three propositions regarding the relationships within an inlaw triangle composed of a linchpin who brings together his or her spouse and relative in an in-law relationship (see Figure 9.1). The first assumption states that the defining characteristics of in-law relationships are their triadic and nonvoluntary nature. That is, in-laws (in Western cultures in particular) exercise little choice in forming their relationships with each other and would incur severe costs in dissolving their relationship (Morr Serewicz, 2006, 2008). Moreover, the linchpin is typically more important to the spouse and relative than the spouse and relative are to each other, and their interaction with one another occurs within the context of their relationships with the linchpin. Second, the in-law relationship typically represents the weak side of a triangle in which the marital and familial relationships represent strong sides. Third, the in-law relationship is continually changing, with major lifespan transitions and well as short-term fluctuations in interactions. Finally, communication among the members of the triangle has implications for the triangle as a whole (Morr Serewicz, 2008). From these assumptions, three propositions were derived. The first proposition compared the uniqueness of the dyadic relationships within the triangle, asserting that the influence of unique dyadic dynamics would make

Linchpin

Familial Marital

Relative

In-law

Spouse

Figure 9.1 In-Law Triangle as Described by the Triangular Theory of the Communication and Relationships of In-Laws (source: Morr Serewicz, 2008)

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the most difference in the relational quality of the marital relationship, less in the familial relationship, and least in the in-law relationship (Morr Serewicz, 2008). The second proposition predicted that mutuality, described as perceptions shared by both parties to the relationship (Tagiuri, Bruner, & Blake, 1958), would be reflected most in the relational quality of the marital dyad, less in the relational quality of the familial dyad, and least in the relational quality of the in-law dyad. The last principle, drawing upon CPM theory as well as the triangular theory, argued that disclosure from the relative’s family would be associated with relational quality for all dyads within the triangle (Morr Serewicz, 2008).

MAJOR FINDINGS In-law relationships have been relatively understudied as compared with other close relationships (Baxter & Braithwaite, 2006; Goetting, 1990), and there is no dominant theoretical approach taken in the research on in-law relationships. The body of existing research nonetheless has amassed an enlightening set of findings regarding the nature of in-law relationships. These results highlight the dark and bright sides of this relationship form, including such areas as the influence of culture, conflict and distance, acceptance and rejection, satisfaction and dissatisfaction, support, and sex differences.

Importance of Culture Though much relationship research emphasizes American and European cultural views and experiences, research conducted in cultures around the world has demonstrated the importance of culture in shaping in-law relationships and interactions. One of the most prevalent themes of research from cultures around the world regarding in-law relationships relates to the changing social, political, economic, and religious ideologies of various countries. In many countries where modernization, industrialization, and social movements are altering the cultural landscape, the in-law relationship is also facing a revolution of sorts. For example, in Greece, the emergence of a more modern, nuclear household in comparison to the traditional, communally-focused family was debated and mediated largely “through conflict between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law” (Vlahoutsikou, 1997, p. 283). Sandel’s (2004) study based in Taiwan also found that conflicts between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law centered on the issue of violating the traditionally observed hierarchical structure of the family and society. Not unexpectedly, in the indirect, other-oriented tradition of Taiwan,

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the daughter-in-law had culturally determined options for recourse— including the refusal to address her mother-in-law with proper terminology, or preparing food for her mother-in-law that is unsatisfactory (Sandel, 2004). In fact, the mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship in Taiwan has been so historically problematic that Wolf (1975) found “the rate of suicide among family members was highest for the young, newly married woman” (p. 77) and attributed the cause, at least in part, to conflict with the mother-in-law. Research conducted in South Korea also discusses the impact of industrialization and urbanization on traditional family systems and in-law communication (Kim, 1996, 2001; Lee, 2002; Yoo & Kim, 2000). The custom in Korea (and other Eastern cultures) is for the daughter-in-law to provide care for her aging parents-in-law (Kim, 2001; Lee, 2002). Studying the caregiving daughters-in-law who lived with their parents-in-law, Lee (2002) found that her obligation to care for her in-laws negatively impacted a daughter-in-law’s life satisfaction and increased the incidence of her depression (Lee, 2002). Kim’s (2001) study concluded that Korean daughterin-law caregivers were worse off in terms of emotional and physical health as compared to Western daughter-in-law caregivers. Kim (1996) and Yoo and Kim (2000) both investigated the potential changes in family-in-law relationships in Korea due to modernization. Both also found that dominant ideologies of a patriarchal culture still exist and place excessive stress on married daughters (Kim, 1996; Yoo & Kim, 2000). Whereas daughters received more support (emotional, financial, and service) from their mothers than they provided, the daughters gave more of all three types of support to their mothers-in-law than they received (Yoo & Kim, 2000). Kim (1996) focused on the roles assumed by women as kin workers (i.e., being responsible for cultivating and maintaining relationships among family members). With cultural changes such as an increased emphasis on individual self-fulfillment and welfare, the Korean women in the study struggled with the traditional ideological priorities of patriarchy as played out in their relationships with their mothers-in-law (Kim, 1996). Similarly, Vera-Sanso (1999) focused on the mother-in-law and daughterin-law relationships in India. Due to changing economic and physical relationships between in-laws, mothers-in-law were found to use a variety of strategies to keep their daughters-in-law compliant. Datta, Poortinga, and Marcoen (2003) also discussed the Indian cultural norm that a daughter-inlaw is traditionally taught to “love and serve her mother-in-law as her own mother” (p. 736). The mandate to care for in-laws, however, did not translate into deeper interpersonal relationships with those in-laws, as attachment levels did not increase as amount of provided care increased (Datta et al., 2003). Challenges and difficulties relating to in-law relationships seem to span cultural boundaries, with variations in the in-law relationship at least partially defined by the cultural prescriptions for roles.

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Conflict and Distance Though popular culture may exaggerate the negativity of in-law relationships, the reputation of in-law relationships as conflictual does have some basis in empirical research. Duvall’s (1954) study of in-law relationships asked people which of their in-laws were most troublesome. The mother-in-law was the in-law mentioned most often, and the book includes many examples of conflictual in-law relationships. Conflict may also be related to particular life stages and changes in in-law relationships. For instance, Fischer (1983) found that women’s conflict with their mothers-in-law increased at the birth of their first child, whereas conflict with their mothers actually decreased. Fischer (1986) also found that daughters-in-law gave higher ratings than mothers-in-law regarding the amount of conflict in their relationships. Fischer’s investigation was primarily a qualitative study and had a small sample size, and she also pointed out that daughters-in-law whose mothersin-law did not respond to the questionnaire rated their relationships as more conflictual, indicating that mothers-in-law in the most conflictual relationships may have been less likely to participate. It is also important to note that daughters-in-law did not rate the amount of conflict with their mothers-inlaw dramatically differently than they rated conflict with their own mothers (Fischer, 1986). These limitations notwithstanding, conflict with in-laws and interpersonal distance in in-law relationships does appear to be prevalent. The impact of the conflict in in-law relationships has been found to be negative in more current research. For instance, Timmer and Veroff (2000) found that conflict with the wife’s family increased the risk of divorce for married couples. Conflict with the husband’s family, on the other hand, did not influence the chance of divorce. Bryant, Conger, and Meehan (2001), who conducted longitudinal research on in-law relationships, found that discord with mothers-in-law and fathers-in-law negatively predicted later marital success (i.e., stability, satisfaction, and commitment). For husbands only, marital success was also a negative predictor of discord with in-laws. Thus conflict with in-laws predicts reduced marital satisfaction, and, for husbands, reduced marital satisfaction predicts conflict with in-laws. Aside from the connection to divorce and marital quality, conflict among in-laws can also result in greater distance, both literally and figuratively. For instance, Marotz-Baden and Cowan’s (1987) study on multi-generational farm families revealed that distance between the homes of the parents and of the son and his wife was positively related to conflict between the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. That is, the further apart they lived, the more conflict they had. The authors explained this surprising finding by inferring that the son and daughter-in-law chose to live as close to his parents as they could stand. This distance is not surprising given the finding that, when conflict between in-laws occurs, management strategies often involve avoidance—

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mainly just ignoring the situation (Merrill, 2007). An interesting strategy that reflects the triadic nature of the in-law relationship is recruiting the spouse to mediate the conflict (Merrill, 2007; Pfeiffer, 1989). Merrill (2007) found that daughters-in-law stated a desire for the husband to step in and mediate conflict with his mother much more often than he actually did. In cases when the spouse did mediate, daughters-in-law perceived that their relationship with their mother-in-law improved. Norwood and Webb’s (2006) research suggests that a man may be more willing to confront his mother in order to establish appropriate boundaries the more intrusive his mother is. In their research, the mother’s intrusiveness was positively correlated with the son’s explicit communication establishing a boundary between the mother and the married couple. Aside from the association between distance and conflict, in-law relationships in general are likely to be distant. Cross-cultural research has found consistency in emotional distance between in-laws. Santos and Levitt (2007) found that about half of children-in-law in their study included their parentsin-law in their social convoy (defined as “a dynamic, hierarchically arranged network of people with whom support is exchanged across the lifespan,” p. 827). Average placement of parents-in-law within the convoy, however, was in the outer circle of the network. Centrality within the network was strongly and positively related to relational quality and support for both mothers-inlaw and fathers-in-law. In addition, frequency of contact and length of marriage were strong, positive predictors of centrality of placement within the network for mothers-in-law, whereas value similarity was a strong, positive predictor of centrality for fathers-in-law. Distance may be an appropriate management strategy for many in-law relationships, but it may be problematic if one or both of the in-laws would like more closeness. For instance, mothers-in-law in Merrill’s (2007) study generally wanted to be included by their sons and daughters-in-law, and daughters-in-law in Jackson and Berg-Cross’s (1988) study who wanted more inclusion from their mothers-in-law tended to have low relational adjustment. Too much closeness and interaction can affect relationships negatively if the in-law comes to be perceived as interfering or intrusive. In a comparison of Black couples and White couples, interference from the husband’s family was a significant predictor of marital instability for Black couples during both the second and the third year of marriage and for both Black and White couples during the fourth year of marriage (Veroff, Douvan, & Hatchett, 1995). In the same study, closeness with family reduced the marital stability in Black couples in the first year of marriage (Veroff et al., 1995). The authors point out that interference from family was a common source of conflict among both Black and White couples, and that couples tended to be closer to the wife’s family, increasing the potential for interference. Closeness with the wife’s family, the authors explained, seems to protect the marriage from

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the perception or the possible negative effects of interference. Veroff et al. (1995) also speculate that the negative influence of interference from the husband’s family may be due to jealousy and conflict between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. This explanation is consistent with Norwood and Webb’s (2006) finding that a husband’s rating of his mother’s intrusiveness was negatively correlated with his wife’s marital satisfaction. In contrast, interpersonal solidarity between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law was positively related to both spouses’ marital satisfaction (Norwood & Webb, 2006). The literature on conflict and distance indicates that both are common situations in in-law relationships. Distance may be an appropriate management strategy, however, for a difficult relationship, and closeness is not unusual if the in-laws like each other.

Acceptance and Rejection Overt rejection from one’s in-laws not surprisingly tends to have negative repercussions for the in-law relationship and the related marital and familial relationships. In Golish’s (2000) study on turning points in parent/adult child relationships, acceptance of a child’s spouse resulted in greater closeness between parent and child, whereas rejection of the child’s spouse resulted in less closeness. Rejection is conceptually related to a number of variables that in-law researchers have investigated. For instance, Morr Serewicz and Canary (2008) and Morr Serewicz et al. (2008) found that in-group status within the in-laws’ family was positively related to in-law satisfaction—and, conversely, perceptions of low in-group status (not being considered a member of the family) were related to low satisfaction. Further, Morr (2002) found that ingroup status in the in-laws’ family was positively related to marital satisfaction for newlyweds. Rittenour and Soliz (2009) have also investigated the related concept of shared family identity, finding that women’s shared family identity with their mothers-in-law was positively related to their intentions of providing care to their mothers-in-law as they age and of maintaining frequent contact with their mothers-in-law. Both implicit and explicit verbal expressions of acceptance seem to have a powerful influence for a new spouse marrying into a family. Rittenour and Soliz (2009) have begun to investigate non-accommodation as a significant communicative factor in in-law relationships. In their investigation, motherin-law non-accommodation, in which the mother-in-law does not adjust her communication to her daughter-in-law in light of the daughter-in-law’s own communication patterns and preferences, has negative repercussions for the in-law relationship. In contrast, supportive communication from mothersin-law has positive consequences for the relationship. In this study, the

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mother-in-law’s non-accommodation (for example, not sharing personal family stories, disagreeing about political views, or excluding the daughterin-law from family activities) was negatively related to the daughter-in-law’s perception of shared family identity, whereas the mother-in-law’s supportive communication (such as working through thoughts and feelings with the daughter-in-law, or listening to her with patience and empathy) was positively related to shared family identity. Non-accommodation and supportive communication carry implicit messages about acceptance or rejection, but families also communicate about these subjects explicitly. Morr Serewicz and Canary (2008) studied four topics of disclosure, identified by Morr (2002) as significant in newlyweds’ transition into their in-laws’ family. Their study found that, regardless of a newlywed’s own family privacy orientation, disclosures their in-laws made about acceptance (e.g., love for the new family member, recognition as part of the family) were consistently positively related to in-group status and in-law satisfaction. This pattern did not emerge for any other topic of disclosure. Similarly, Morr Serewicz’s (2008) study of linchpin–spouse–parent triads found that acceptance disclosure from in-laws was positively related to the parent’s satisfaction with his or her unique relationship with the spouse. In addition, acceptance disclosure increased the more the parent and the spouse were perceived as rewarding relational partners within the triad. Participants in Morr’s (2002) qualitative focus group study described instances of both acceptance and rejection by their in-laws. Acceptance disclosures generally were quite meaningful for participants. As one participant, who had been raised by a widowed father, discussed her motherin-law’s expression of love for her, she elaborated: I’d never heard that before, even from my father, but for somebody to be newly part of my family to say that straight out, that I love you, I accept you, and, you know, I’m glad you’re part of the family, that meant a lot. (Morr, 2002, p. 66)

At the other extreme, several participants discussed upsetting instances of rejection at length. For instance, one participant described a situation in which her then-fiancé’s grandmother said to the fiancé, “[Your brother]’s found himself a nice Christian girl. You need to go find one, too” (p. 68). The participant confronted the grandmother, saying “He doesn’t have to look very far, I’m right here!” (p. 68). The grandmother replied, “Well, it’s not official yet” (p. 68). The association between acceptance and rejection is not mutually exclusive, and data from this qualitative study illustrate some of the complexities of acceptance and rejection. Some of these rejection situations could be mitigated by other circumstances. For instance, the overt love and acceptance of the fiancé’s parents seemed to mute the effects of the

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grandmother’s rejection in the earlier example, though the participant described the rejection as particularly hurtful because, as she put it, “To be opened in to part of this family and then turned around like that . . . I was just . . . appalled” (Morr, 2002, p. 68). Also, if the rejection was ultimately reversed through later acceptance, some participants were able to frame the experience more positively, describing how learning of the reasons for rejection later made the in-law relationship closer (Morr, 2002). In other cases, participants could reframe negative, rejecting, or conflictual communication as an indication that the in-law felt comfortable enough with their relationship to express negative thoughts and emotions (Morr, 2002). Thus, acceptance and rejection may not be mutually exclusive or best defined as two poles of a continuum. It appears that acceptance and rejection may coexist in the in-law relationship, consistent with several researchers’ descriptions of in-laws as being family but not being family at the same time (e.g., Cotterill, 1994; Merrill, 2007). The nuances of acceptance and rejection may contribute to the ambiguity that characterizes in-law relationships.

Satisfaction and Dissatisfaction Much research on close relationships in general has focused on satisfaction as a major gauge of the quality of a relationship. Morr Serewicz and Canary (2008) found that low levels of disclosure on family-relevant topics led to reduced satisfaction with the in-law relationship for some topics, but not for others. This effect was mediated by the orientation toward privacy that the participant had learned in his or her own family of origin. For instance, for participants whose families had a high-permeability interior privacy orientation, low levels of disclosure surrounding the family’s historical identity (i.e., stories and traditions) resulted in lower in-law satisfaction. But for participants whose family has a low-permeability interior privacy orientation, the more they heard about historical identity, the less satisfied they were with the in-laws. Further evidence for the link between in-laws’ disclosure and relational satisfaction comes from Morr Serewicz (2008), who found that disclosure from in-laws was positively related to the relationally unique components of satisfaction in the in-law dyad, indicating that reduced disclosure from in-laws coincides with reduced satisfaction on the part of both in-laws. Moreover, disclosure from in-laws is also relevant to marital satisfaction, as disclosure from in-laws to husbands is positively associated with marital satisfaction for both husband and wife (Morr Serewicz et al., 2008). Dissatisfaction with one’s in-laws carries implications for the entire in-law triad of linchpin, spouse, and relative (Morr Serewicz, 2008). Morr Serewicz (2008) found support for a model showing positive links between satisfaction in the three dyads (i.e., in-law, marital, and familial) of the in-law triad. Thus,

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dissatisfaction in the in-law relationship is likely to relate to lower levels of satisfaction in the marital and familial relationships as well. Morr (2002) and Morr Serewicz et al. (2008) found similar connections between in-law satisfaction and marital satisfaction. Findings from research by Morr Serewicz (2008) and Morr Serewicz and Canary (2008) also indicate that all familial disclosures are not created equal when it comes to their impact on relational satisfaction. As mentioned previously, disclosures of acceptance received from one’s spouse’s family are consistently positively related to relational quality in the in-law relationship (Morr Serewicz & Canary, 2008). In contrast, disclosures of historical identity (i.e., family stories and traditions) and relational trouble disclosures also influenced in-law relational quality, but these associations were moderated by the recipient’s family privacy orientation (Morr Serewicz & Canary, 2008). Perhaps most interesting, disclosures in which in-laws slander other family members had a consistently negative effect on the recipient’s in-law satisfaction and feelings of in-group status within the family. Simply put, hearing slanderous disclosure about other family members tended to reduce a new son- or daughter-in-law’s satisfaction with the in-laws (Morr Serewicz & Canary, 2008). Morr Serewicz (2008), however, found that in-laws’ disclosure of slander to a spouse was positively related to perceptions of the spouse as a satisfying relational partner. Taking these findings together, it appears that in-laws engage in greater slander of family members to sons- and daughters-in-law who are liked (Morr Serewicz, 2008), but receiving these slanderous disclosures negatively impacts the child-in-law’s perspective on the in-law relationship (Morr Serewicz & Canary, 2008). The implications of these findings are problematic for in-law relationships. That is, in-laws likely disclose slanderous information about other family members to a spouse they like, perhaps believing that they are letting the spouse in on the family’s secrets or helping the spouse to deal with a difficult family member. These disclosures can backfire, however, by negatively affecting the recipient’s perception of the in-law relationship. As participants in Morr (2002) mentioned during focus-group discussions, receiving gossip disclosure may lead a new spouse to wonder, “What do they say about me when I’m not around?” Further complicating satisfaction in in-law relationships, there appears to be less mutuality in relational satisfaction between in-laws than between spouses or family members (Floyd & Morr, 2003; Morr Serewicz, 2008). In other words, the satisfaction one party feels is weakly (or not at all) related to the satisfaction the other party feels. It is entirely possible for a mother-in-law to feel satisfied with her relationship with her son-in-law, while the son-in-law feels dissatisfied with the relationship. Yoshimura’s (2009) research has found that envy in sibling-in-law relationships is unrelated to relational satisfaction and closeness. It is important to

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note that siblings were significantly more envious of each other than were siblings-in-law, whose degree of envy was not significantly different from the envy spouses felt toward each other (Yoshimura, 2009). In contrast, research using the same sample found that affectionate communication was positively related to both satisfaction and closeness, although siblings-in-law communicated less affection to each other than did either siblings or spouses (Floyd & Morr, 2003). This research is interesting in that it demonstrates some resiliency of satisfaction in the sibling-in-law relationship in the face of negative emotion, but shows that satisfaction in this relationship is influenced by prosocial behavior. The findings of the existing research on disclosure, affection, and envy indicate that in-law interaction and communication have complex effects on relational satisfaction, but more research is needed to understand what makes an in-law relationship satisfying or dissatisfying. Further complicating our understanding of satisfaction in in-law relationships is the evidence that what is satisfying to one in-law may not be satisfying to his or her partner in the in-law relationship.

Support Research on in-law relationships has also emphasized the support provided between in-laws. In-laws provide both direct and indirect support to one another. For instance, when an adult child provides care for an aging or ill parent, the child-in-law may provide direct support to the parent-in-law by providing personal care or services or may provide indirect support by supporting the adult child who is the caregiver. Goetting’s (1990) review of the literature on support between in-laws highlighted several interesting features of in-law support patterns. First, parents provide the greatest financial support to their adult child and child-in-law early in the marriage, with financial support declining over time. Support in the form of services peaks several years after the child’s marriage, when grandchildren are in their preschool years. Class differences are important to note, however: Working-class parents are more likely to give service support, whereas middleclass parents are more likely to give financial support. Research has found evidence of direct assistance from parents-in-law to children-in-law following major crises, such as the child-in-law’s serious illness or unemployment, and in the unique case of childcare support given to the daughter-in-law (Goetting, 1990). Fischer’s (1983) research has identified childcare support as a point of both positive and negative interaction among in-laws. Her research showed that daughters-in-law do seek childcare advice from their mothers-in-law, but also experience greater conflict with their mothers-in-law following the birth of their first child. The childcare support provided by

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mothers-in-law also differs from that provided by mothers, in that mothersin-law are more likely to give material goods, whereas mothers are more likely to provide services (Fischer, 1983). Goetting (1990) also indicated that most of the literature showed little direct support from children-in-law in providing care to parents-in-law. A few exceptions were indicated, in which the son-in-law was found to provide significant support when his wife was the primary caregiver for her parent. More recent research on caregiving presents findings that show children-inlaw providing both direct and indirect support for their parents-in-law. Research in Eastern cultures has investigated the cultural expectation that a daughter-in-law will care for her mother-in-law (e.g., Datta et al., 2003; Kim, 2001; Lee, 2002), finding evidence of depression on the part of the daughterin-law (Lee, 2002) and interpersonal distance between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law in spite of their instrumental relationship (Datta et al., 2003). Interestingly, research on caregiving relationships in rural China has found that care provided by daughters-in-law tended to decrease the mothers-inlaw’s depressive symptoms, whereas care from sons increased depressive symptoms, particularly when the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law lived together (Cong & Silverstein, 2008). Research on patterns of caregiving in Chinese Canadian families showed a combination of Eastern and Western care patterns. Consistent with traditional Chinese expectations, parents and parents-in-law were likely to live with their children, and sons and daughtersin-law were likely to provide care for the son’s parents. Consistent with Canadian culture, however, daughters were also likely to provide care for their own parents, and daughters-in-law actually provided less care than either sons or daughters (Chappell & Kusch, 2007). Lai, Luk, and Andruske (2007) similarly found that most caregivers in Chinese Canadian families were female, and that daughters provided more care than daughters-in-law. This research gives evidence that daughters-in-law are providing significant care for their in-laws in Asian cultures or Asian subcultures within Western countries. This care provision is not without strain on the daughter-in-law, however, and appears to be decreasing as norms change. Research in Western cultures has also found evidence of in-law caregiving, as in Globerman’s (1996) research on daughters- and sons-in-law providing care for their parents-in-law. Though the author cautions against broad generalization from this exploratory study, this investigation shows evidence for a difference in care given by daughters- and sons-in-law, in that daughtersin-law were more likely to give direct caregiving support to parents-in-law, whereas sons-in-law were more likely to provide indirect support through their wives who serve as primary caregivers (Globerman, 1996). Rittenour and Soliz (2009) investigated daughters-in-law’s relational intentions toward their mothers-in-law, which included caregiving intentions as well as intended future contact with the mother-in-law. Their model indicated that the

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mother-in-law’s supportive communication positively predicted shared family identity (i.e., the daughter-in-law’s perception of herself and her mother-inlaw as belonging to the same family), whereas the mother-in-law’s nonaccommodative communication negatively predicted shared family identity. Shared family identity, in turn, predicted relational intentions, indicating that the more the daughter-in-law believed she and her mother-in-law belonged to the same family, the stronger her caregiving intentions should her mother-in-law need assistance and the more frequent contact she intended to maintain with her mother-in-law. In contrast to a traditional Eastern model in which daughters-in-law are expected to provide care for mothers-in-law regardless of personal affinity or interpersonal closeness (Datta et al., 2003), it appears that the development of a personal relationship and in-group identification with the mother-in-law promotes caregiving intentions in Western culture (Rittenour & Soliz, 2009). Overall, research on support in in-law relationships shows that in-law relationships are often quite significant in the lives of these families. Also, though support features strongly in the bright side of in-law relationships, an underlying dark side is also present in depression of caregivers and recipients and tension surrounding childcare support and advice.

Sex Differences in the Dark Side of In-law Relationships As has no doubt become apparent in the preceding review, research on inlaw relationships emphasizes the mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship. Not surprisingly, given sex differences in family roles and in close relationships in general, existing research on in-law relationships that extends to other in-law connections shows evidence of interesting sex differences needing further investigation. Bryant et al. (2001), for instance, found that wives’ discord with mothers-in-law predicted husbands’ marital success and that wives’ marital success predicted husbands’ discord with mothers-in-law, but the influence was not reciprocal (i.e., husbands’ perceptions did not influence wives’). Interestingly, Morr Serewicz et al. (2008) found that husbands’ disclosure received from in-laws directly predicted both husbands’ and wives’ marital satisfaction, but these direct relationships were not evident for wives’ reports of in-laws’ disclosure. Further investigation of the influence of one spouse’s in-law relationships on the other spouse are warranted, given the interesting pattern of findings. Globerman (1996) also found an interesting pattern in the caregiving activities of daughters-in-law and sons-in-law. Though the author stresses that this was a small, exploratory study, the findings indicated that daughters-inlaw often provided direct care to their aging and ill parents-in-law. In contrast, sons-in-law tended to provide indirect care to parents-in-law by providing

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relational support to their wives. One son-in-law, speaking about his wife, tellingly said “I can’t take the pressure of caring off her” (p. 43). As Globerman points out, however, many daughters-in-law did exactly that for their husbands. Thus, the caregiving role of a child-in-law may be enacted differently by men and women. Both men and women similarly may play a mediating role in the in-law triad, but the form of mediation may be different for the two sexes. For instance, Pfeiffer (1989) and Merrill (2007) both discuss the son/husband as a mediator of conflict between the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. Pfeiffer found this mediation strategy to be a common conflict management tactic for mothers- and daughters-in-law, whereas Merrill found that daughters-in-law wished their husbands would take on the mediating role more often. In contrast, Fischer (1986) explains that the triangular nature of in-law relationships, combined with the kin-keeping role of women, means that the daughter-in-law is often the mediator of the mother-in-law’s relationship with her son and her grandchildren. That is, the daughter-in-law facilitates her mother-in-law’s contact with the son/husband and grandchildren, by such actions as encouraging her husband to call or visit (Cotterill, 1994) or simply by being the point of contact who answers the telephone and coordinates the family’s schedule (Merrill, 2007). At this point, the significance of the research emphasis on mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law for understanding in-law relationships in general is not possible to discern completely in the presence of limited research on other in-law relationships. Fischer (1986), however, points out the competitive connotations attached to the mother-in-law/daughter-in-law connection, substantiated by prior research and captured by the folk saying “a son’s a son ‘til he takes a wife; a daughter’s a daughter the rest of her life.” The unique constellation of attributes in the mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship makes it a fascinating source of study, but also raises numerous empirical questions about the generalizability of findings on mothers- and daughtersin-law to other in-law relationships. The bulk of evidence shows that women, and daughters-in-law in particular, are pivotal in the management of the in-law relationship. The responsibility of kin-keeping, with its attendant emotional and instrumental labor, seems to rest more heavily on the daughter-in-law. At the same time, her role also allows her to exert power and control over other members of the in-law triangle (Cotterill, 1994; Fischer, 1986; Merrill, 2007). As a mediator, she can choose to facilitate or obstruct her husband’s interaction with his family. Little research has actually been conducted on sons-in-law and fathers-in-law, with the result that we know much more about the configuration of the triangle of son/daughter-in-law/mother-in-law than about any other in-law triangle. The evidence we have regarding the position of the son-in-law (e.g., the significance of his marital success in predicting his

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discord with his parents-in-law [Bryant et al., 2001] and the association between the disclosure he receives from his in-laws and his marital satisfaction [Morr Serewicz et al., 2008]) suggests complexity and significance that warrants further study.

CONCLUSIONS AND NEW DIRECTIONS The existing research on in-law relationships illustrates the great complexity in this relational form. What might at first appear to be the dark side has hidden brightness, as in the example of physical distance mitigating conflict in order to keep a farming family functioning well (Marotz-Baden & Cowan, 1987). By the same token, what appears to be the bright side has its own shadows, as in the case of the depression experienced by a daughter-in-law who acts as caregiver for her mother-in-law (Lee, 2002). In concluding this chapter, it is important to consider the underlying causes that scholars have posited for the complexity and difficulties of in-law relationships.

Why Are In-Law Relationships Challenging? Researchers have recently addressed the sources of difficulty in in-law relationships, offering a variety of explanations for the complexity of in-law relationships. Morr Serewicz (2006, 2008) attributed the difficulty of interacting with in-laws to the triadic, nonvoluntary structure of the relationship. That is, in-laws do not choose each other as relational partners, yet they would face serious costs if they chose to end their relationship. At the same time, their interaction with one another is inextricably linked with their relationship with the linchpin who brings them together. Because the marital dyad and the parent–child dyad are typically closer and involve stronger bonds than the in-law dyad in Western culture, the interaction they have in the nonvoluntary in-law dyad then impacts these more significant relationships. In this way, in-laws form and negotiate a relationship with one another that carries higher stakes than most dyadic relationships do. Merrill (2007) offered another explanation for the difficulty inherent in in-law relationships. Placing the emphasis on the ambiguity and contradictions of in-law relationships, the author explained that in-laws do not have clearly defined roles in Western culture. They are expected, moreover, to behave as family members without the emotional bonds and relational history of a family member. Fischer (1986) listed three causes of tension between in-laws: “They come from different family cultures. There is a potential competition over the child/spouse. And they are, at the same time, both kin and strangers to one another” (p. 154). The ambiguity and competing loyalties of in-law

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relationships are illustrated in Jorgenson’s (1994) work on the address terms that couples use with their in-laws. Address terms used for parents-in-law are not clearly mandated, and the choice of various address terms, such as “Mom and Dad,” first names, or titles (“Mr. and Mrs.”), carry different implications about the nature of the relationship among in-laws. These implications resonate beyond the parent-in-law/child-in-law relationship, as in the case of children-in-law who worry about calling their in-laws “Mom and Dad” because they recognize that their spouse and his or her siblings have an exclusive right to call their parents “Mom and Dad,” or the case of the son-in-law who resists calling his mother-in-law “Mom” because he owes the exclusive use of that name to his own mother (Jorgenson, 1994). Thus, the ambiguity regarding roles and relationships among in-laws plays out in many ways as the parties to the relationship negotiate their association with one another. Taking these ideas in combination, then, in-laws form and maintain triadic, nonvoluntary relationships with ambiguous roles and potential competition over the third member of the triangle—the linchpin who holds the triad together. It is easy to see the influence of these aspects of the in-law relationship in the specific findings discussed earlier. Ambiguity about the role one should play in the family would make interpretation of slanderous disclosures about family members difficult. Is the discloser sending a message about the recipient’s place in the family? Should the recipient respond by joining in the gossip, or would criticism of an in-law be perceived as overstepping the bounds of the family? Conflict between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law does not have the same implications as conflict between mother and daughter because the familial roles and bonds between the two pairs of women are dramatically different. The conflict between mother-inlaw and daughter-in-law, moreover, implicates the triangular connection to the son/husband, who might be expected to step in and mediate the conflict, whereas he would be far less likely to be recruited to mediate a conflict between his wife and her own mother. In-law relationships are neither dark nor bright in themselves. The ways that the parties to the relationships negotiate the ambiguous, competitive, triangular, and nonvoluntary aspects of these relationships will no doubt lead to both darkness and brightness.

New Directions Future research needs to continue to investigate sources of strength as well as challenges in in-law relationships. In addition to extending the research reviewed in this chapter, a few further areas present intriguing possibilities for in-law research. First, changes in technology have the potential to change in-law interaction. For instance, cell phones may play a role in altering the mediating or

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gatekeeping role of daughters-in-law. If both spouses have their own cell phones, then a mother who wishes to talk to her adult son likely will call him directly, bypassing the daughter-in-law who might have been more likely to be the one who answered the family’s home phone when her mother-in-law calls. Relatives’ capability to contact each other directly through personal email accounts and cell phones, bypassing the in-laws entirely, likely reduces incidental interaction between in-laws who do not see each other regularly. The implications of reduced casual interaction and the pressure to initiate intentional interaction between in-laws require further investigation. The potential influence of social networking websites on in-law interaction is also unclear. Coyle and Vaughn (2008) found little to support that social networking websites impact established relationships, but the newly formed in-law relationship was not examined. With more information readily available (via ever-growing websites such as Facebook and MySpace), how might in-law interaction change? Relationship development and seeking information may take on new meaning when a mother-in-law can learn about her new daughter-in-law by typing on a keyboard instead of having a conversation. Power in the in-law relationship also requires further examination. Theories of triadic relationships have discussed the relevance of relative power among triad members. Homans (1950) specifically discussed the likelihood that two people with a common relational partner (in the case of in-laws, this would be the spouse and relative of a linchpin individual) will develop a close relationship. His theory argued that the enactment of a significant power differential is likely to interfere with the development of a close relationship between the two parties, in this case, the spouse and the relative. In Western cultures, the spouse often holds greater power than the relative does in the in-law triangle. The role of daughter-in-law as mediator, who can facilitate or impede her mother-in-law’s relationship with her husband and children, provides a good example of the power of the spouse. However, situations exist in which the relative may wield greater power. For instance, Cotterill (1994) recounts instances in which the mother-in-law’s requests for household assistance from her son take precedence over his wife and children. An even more complex situation arises in the family farming situation. The daughter-in-law who marries into a farming family often holds weak status in the family, excluded from important decisions about the farm that is her family’s livelihood and her children’s legacy (Pini, 2007). In spite of her investment of labor and commitment to her husband and her family, the daughter-in-law is often treated as less than a full member of the family. From the family’s perspective, the daughter-in-law is potentially a dangerous figure; if her relationship with her husband dissolves, the material loss to the family is not confined to her husband’s resources, but extends to the entire family if she receives a portion of the farm in the divorce.

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The obligations of family members to provide support and care for each other also influence power dynamics. Daughters-in-law who participated in Cotterill’s (1994) research expressed concerns over asking their mothers-inlaw for childcare assistance, resisting the perceived obligation to the motherin-law and the power she would have in the raising of their children. Fischer (1983, 1986), likewise, found that tension between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law was greater when the daughter-in-law had children than when the daughter-in-law did not have children. Similarly, children-in-law who act as caregivers for their parents-in-law may exercise greater power in the in-law relationship than the care recipient. Finally, the sex differences in in-law relationships and the broader implications for the family need to be better understood. Much of the existing research focuses on mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationships. This research has really just begun to scratch the surface of a very complex relationship; much more remains to be done in understanding this particular relational configuration. As research on mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationships continues, however, it should be matched by research on all of the other configurations of in-law relationships. Some existing research (e.g., Fischer, 1986) has compared mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationships with mother/daughter relationships, providing an excellent context for understanding which features of the mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship are attributable to the in-law component of the relationship and which are similar to other adult, hierarchical, familial female–female relationships. We need to understand the various in-law relationships in their own right and in comparison to one another in order to understand both the common and the unique features of the various in-law associations. For instance, it is hard to say, without understanding fathers-in-law and sons-in-law, how much of in-law interaction between mothers- and daughters-in-law is attributable to the sex or gender issues of the relationship and how much is common to same-sex parent/child-in-law relationships or to parent/child-in-law relationships in general. Understanding the broader context of the in-law relationship is also a worthy goal. Triadic research is useful in acknowledging and accounting for the nature and structure of in-law relationships. Research involving entire families, and both sets of in-laws, would go a long way toward understanding the complexity of the in-law context. Research on in-law relationships has come a long way in understanding a complex and understudied relationship type. Future research along these lines will shed light on both the dark and the bright sides of an often-misunderstood relational context.

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Goetting, A. (1990). Patterns of support among in-laws in the United States. Journal of Family Issues, 11, 67–90. Golish, T. D. (2000). Changes in closeness between adult children and their parents: A turning point analysis. Communication Reports, 13, 79–97. Heads, H. O., & Syrtash, A. (2007). How to survive your in-laws: Advice from hundreds of married couples who did. Atlanta, GA: Hundreds of Heads Books. Hobday, E. (2005, July). 6 people who complicate your life and how to make them go away. Men’s Health, 20(6), 156. Homans, G. C. (1950). The human group. New York: Harcourt, Brace, & World. Jackson, J., & Berg-Cross, L. (1988). Extending the extended family: The mother-inlaw and daughter-in-law relationship of Black women. Family Relations, 37, 293–297. Jorgenson, J. (1994). Situated address and the social construction of “in-law” relationships. Southern Communication Journal, 55, 196–204. Kaufman, J. (2003, January). A girl’s best friend is . . . her mother-in-law? Good Housekeeping, 236(1), 64. Kim, J. S. (2001). Daughters-in-law in Korean caregiving families. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 36, 399–408. Kim, M. (1996). Changing relationships between daughters-in-law and mothers-in-law in urban South Korea. Anthropological Quarterly, 69(4), 179–192. Lai, D. W. L., Luk, P. K. F., & Andruske, C. L. (2007). Gender differences in caregiving: A case in Chinese Canadian caregivers. Journal of Women & Aging, 19, 161–178. Lang, D. (1992). How to stop your relatives from driving you crazy: Strategies for coping with “challenging” relatives. New York: Fireside. Lee, H. (2002). Experience of caregiving daughters-in-law in South Korea. Dissertation Abstracts International, 63, 2A. Marotz-Baden, R., & Cowan, D. (1987). Mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law: The effects of proximity on conflict and stress. Family Relations, 36, 385–390. Merrill, D. M. (2007). Mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law: Understanding the relationship and what makes them friends or foe. Westport, CT: Praeger. Morr, M. C. (2002). Private disclosure in a family membership transition: In-laws’ disclosures to newlyweds. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Arizona State University, Tempe, Arizona. Morr Serewicz, M. C. (2006). The difficulties of in-law relationships. In D. C. Kirkpatrick, S. Duck, & M. Foley (Eds.), Relating difficulty: The process of constructing and managing difficult interaction (pp. 101–118). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Morr Serewicz, M. C. (2008). Toward a triangular theory of the communication and relationships of in-laws: Theoretical proposal and social relations analysis of private disclosure and relational satisfaction in in-law triads. Journal of Family Communication, 8, 264–292. Morr Serewicz, M. C., & Canary, D. J. (2008). Assessments of disclosure from the inlaws: Links among disclosure topics, family privacy orientations, and relational quality. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 25, 333–357. Morr Serewicz, M. C., Hosmer, R., Ballard, R. L., & Griffin, R. A. (2008). Disclosure from in-laws and the quality of marital and in-law relationships. Communication Quarterly, 56, 427–444. Norwood, K., & Webb, L. M. (2006, June). How mothers influence their adult sons’ marital satisfaction through communication with daughters-in-law: Survey findings from eight states. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the International Communication Association, Dresden, Germany. Petronio, S. (2002). Boundaries of privacy: Dialectics of disclosure. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

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Pfeiffer, S. K. (1989). Mothers’-in-law and daughters’-in-law perceptions of interpersonal interaction. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Delaware, Newark, Delaware. Pini, B. (2007). Always an outlaw: Daughters-in-law on Australian family farms. Women’s Studies International Forum, 30, 40–47. Rittenour, C., & Soliz, J. (2009). Communicative and relational dimensions of shared family identity and relational intentions in mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationships: Developing a conceptual model for mother-in-law/daughter-in-law research. Western Journal of Communication, 73, 67–90. Sandel, T. (2004). Narrated relationships: Mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law justifying conflicts in Taiwan’s Chhan-chg. Research on Language and Social Interaction, 37(3), 365–398. Santos, J. D., & Levitt, M. J. (2007). Intergenerational relations with in-laws in the context of the social convoy: Theoretical and practical implications. Journal of Social Issues, 63, 827–843. Shapiro Barash, S. (2001). Mothers-in-law & daughters in law: Love, hate, rivalry, and reconciliation. Far Hills, NJ: New Horizon Press. Tagiuri, R., Bruner, J. S., & Blake, R. R. (1958). On the relation between feelings and perception of feelings among members of small groups. In E. E. Maccoby, T. M. Newcomb, & E. L. Hartley (Eds.), Readings in social psychology (3rd ed., pp. 110–116). New York: Holt. Timmer, S. G., & Veroff, J. (2000). Family ties and the discontinuity of divorce in Black and White newlywed couples. Journal of Marriage and the Family, 62, 349–361. Vera-Sanso, P. (1999). Dominant daughters-in-law and submissive mothers-in-law? Cooperation and conflict in South India. Journal of Royal Anthropological Institute, 5, 577–593. Veroff, J., Douvan, E., & Hatchett, S. J. (1995). Marital instability: A social and behavioral study of the early years. Westport, CT: Praeger. Vlahoutsikou, C. (1997). Mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law: Politicizing confrontations. Journal of Modern Greek Studies, 15(2), 283–302. Wolf, M. (1975). Women and suicide in China. In M. Wolf & R. Witke (Eds.), Women in Chinese society (pp. 111–141). Stanford: Stanford University Press. Yoo, Y. J., & Kim, S. K. (2000, November). To support mother, or to support mother-in-law: That is the question? Paper presented at the meeting of the National Council on Family Relations, Minneapolis, MN. Yoshimura, C. G. (2009). The experience and communication of jealousy and envy in spouse/sibling/sibling-in-law triads. Unpublished manuscript, University of Montana, Missoula, MT.

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Dark Clouds with Silver Linings: The (Dys)Functional Ambivalence of Stepfamily Relationships Paul Schrodt and Dawn O. Braithwaite

I always use the metaphor of the bone between two dogs. I always felt like, because my parents did not talk to one another and if it happened where they were forced to talk to one another it was not pretty at all. Sometimes it was just easier to use me too, so they both wouldn’t fight, sometimes I willingly took that role so that I didn’t have to see my parents fight. But it, I didn’t feel much like a person, I felt like a plaything. Young adult stepchild (Braithwaite, Toller, Daas, Durham, & Jones, 2008) We need to work it out, because otherwise there will be a lot of hostility, there will be a lot of anger, and if we work things out as we go, things down the road are gonna be easier. If we don’t work things out, the more stuff that we say “nope, we can’t reach a compromise, just go by the [divorce] decree,” the more things down the road are going to get more and more like that and it’s just gonna be this snowball effect that is just gonna make things worse and worse as we go along. Adult co-parent in a stepfamily (Schrodt, Baxter, McBride, Braithwaite, & Fine, 2006) This is the first time to be a family. This is the first time that he [stepfather] had his stuff there and my mom had her stuff there . . . there is no desensitizing to that point. I wasn’t ready for that shock and you just arrive there, plus in a different town, in a different school, and you are start[ing] school yourself. So, it was a very big letdown and to be a family . . . all of this at once. Young adult stepchild (Braithwaite, Olson, Golish, Soukup, & Turman, 2001)

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When both of my parents decided to be involved with other people they never really sat down and said like, “OK, this is so and so, and this is why daddy is dating.” They would come around more and more and . . . I had no idea what was going on. I was old enough to know that what was going on wasn’t right; it wasn’t normal, or the way it should be. Young adult stepdaughter (Braithwaite et al., 2008)

Each of these accounts provides a glimpse into the challenges and complexities associated with stepfamily relationships. From stepchildren’s feelings of being caught between their divorced parents, to ex-spouses negotiating their co-parenting relationships with each other and their remarried partners in the shadows of the divorce decree, to how biological parents introduce their new relational partners to their children (if at all), stepfamilies involve a plethora of personal relationships that vary considerably in form, structure, and complexity. Broadly defined as a family in which “at least one of the adults has a child (or children) from a previous relationship” (Ganong & Coleman, 2004, p. 2), stepfamily relationships include some of the most fascinating and most frustrating of family relationships to study (Ganong & Coleman, 2004). This is due, in part, to the difficulties associated with defining who is included in a study of stepfamilies. For example, U.S. census data suggest that 9% of married couple households and 11.5% of cohabiting couple households contain stepchildren (U.S. Bureau of the Census, 2003). These estimates represent underestimates, however, because the census relies on a household definition that is based on co-residence, one that neglects the complexity of stepfamily systems and the relationships they include (for a full discussion, see Teachman & Tedrow, 2008). Correcting for this definitional limitation, as of 2000, stepfamilies constituted 13% of all families in the United States (Teachman & Tedrow, 2008), and Stewart (2007) recently reported that 15% of children under the age of 18 reside in a married stepfamily. Taken together, these data suggest that the lifetime prevalence of stepfamilies, or the extent to which individuals will spend at least part of their lifetime in a stepfamily, is much higher than the cross-sectional prevalence upon which census data are based. Based on earlier estimates, for instance, Bumpass, Raley, and Sweet (1995) concluded that 40% of all mothers and 30% of all children will spend at least part of their lifetime living in a stepfamily. Consequently, the proliferation of stepfamilies has fueled an exponential growth in stepfamily research, as the amount of published research on stepfamilies during the 1990s tripled the previous total published prior to that decade (Coleman, Ganong, & Fine, 2000). One of the fundamental questions to emerge from this burgeoning body of research is whether or not stepfamily relationships are qualitatively distinct from first-marriage (or “traditional, nuclear”) family relationships. Although the trend is beginning to change, historically, researchers have investigated stepfamily relationships using a “deficit-comparison” approach (Coleman

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et al., 2000; Ganong & Coleman, 1994, 2004). This view of stepfamilies relies on a model of the conventional, “nuclear” family as the conceptual framework against which the stepfamily is found to be deficient and problematic (Baxter, Braithwaite, & Nicholson, 1999; Ganong & Coleman, 1994, 2004). That is, researchers have a tendency to examine the behaviors and processes that are problematic in stepfamilies by comparing such processes to those found in first-marriage families, and typically, this is done at the expense of examining the behaviors that promote growth and resilience in stepfamilies (Afifi, 2008). The stepfamily is, in many ways, an incomplete institution (Cherlin, 1978), given the lack of relational history among family members, the dearth of relational norms to guide communication and relational development, and the ambiguous family boundaries that emerge as a function of relational uncertainty between family members. The uncertainty and complexity surrounding stepfamily relationships, in turn, fosters a sense of ambivalence that characterizes the communication of family members, as well as the development of healthy and satisfying stepfamily relationships. In this chapter, we propose that one of the defining characteristics that distinguishes stepfamilies from other family forms, and thus merits attention in a volume on the “dark side” of personal relationships, is the (dys)functional ambivalence inherent to stepfamily life (e.g., Baxter, Braithwaite, Bryant, & Wagner, 2004; Braithwaite & Baxter, 2006; Braithwaite et al., 2008; Kellas, LeClair-Underberg, & Normand, 2008; Schrodt, 2006a, 2006b, 2006c). Although some scholars have framed this ambivalence as problematic and dysfunctional, perhaps as a consequence of the deficit-comparison approach, we contend that the ambivalence of stepfamily relationships can, and often does, serve very functional purposes. For example, at a minimum, embracing the ambivalence of stepfamily relationships acknowledges the unique challenges associated with stepfamily development, which in turn, allows family members to craft their own relationships independent of the nuclear family model, a model that lacks the flexibility necessary for accommodating the fluid and permeable boundaries of the stepfamily (Gross, 1987). Thus, we proffer a compilation and review of the existing research on stepfamily relationships so as to support the argument that (dys)functional ambivalence is not only fundamental to the experience of stepfamily members, but may constitute one of the defining characteristics of stepfamily functioning that differentiates this family form from other family types. Our primary goal is not to provide a comprehensive and exhaustive review of the stepfamily literature (for an example, see Coleman et al., 2000), but rather to identify and describe three primary sources of ambivalence that distinguish the stepfamily from other family forms. First, we examine the role ambivalence inherent to step- and (non)residential parenting relationships in stepfamilies. Second, we review recent research that highlights the relational and emotional ambivalence of different stepfamily dyads within the stepfamily

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system. Finally, we synthesize empirical research on the dialectical tensions and communicative ambivalence that characterize stepfamily interaction before concluding our chapter with directions for future research.

ROLE AMBIVALENCE IN STEPFAMILY RELATIONSHIPS There is a growing consensus among family scholars that many of the challenges facing members of stepfamilies revolve around the roles of different family members, and particularly, the stepparent (Fine, Coleman, & Ganong, 1998; Fine, Ganong, & Coleman, 1997, 1999; Ganong, Coleman, Fine, & Martin, 1999; Golish, 2003; Schrodt, 2006b). In fact, studies of stepfamily development have characterized maladaptive families as having divisive family boundaries and ambiguous and strained familial roles (Braithwaite et al., 2001; Braithwaite et al., 2008). The notion of family boundaries includes the rules or norms that define appropriate behavior and membership within and outside of the family (Broderick, 1994). In this section, we review two bodies of research that implicitly highlight the role ambivalence that different stepfamily members experience as they navigate the “dark clouds” of stepfamily development: (1) group distinctions and family membership, and (2) boundary ambiguity.

The Emergence of Stepfamily Boundaries A first source of tension and ambivalence in stepfamily relationships is in-group/out-group distinctions and questions of family membership. Stepfamilies often experience different developmental trajectories during the process of becoming a family (e.g., Baxter et al., 1999; Braithwaite et al., 2001), as well as ambivalence and discontent that emerge as a function of the disconnect between pre-existing expectations of stepfamily life based on traditional models of family functioning, and the realities of stepfamily life. Historically, researchers and family clinicians have viewed stepfamilies as developing along one linear, developmental path, where stepfamily relationships form based on prescriptive, chronological stages (e.g., Papernow, 2008). As Baxter, Braithwaite, and their colleagues (Baxter et al., 1999; Braithwaite et al., 2001) have argued, however, these developmental stage models are limiting because they oversimplify the developmental process and fail to recognize the tremendous within-group variability that exists among different stepfamilies. In an effort to address these limitations, Baxter et al. (1999) used a retrospective interview technique to identify the different types of turning points that stepfamily members experienced during the first four years of re-configuration. Their analysis revealed 15 primary types of turning points, ranging from actual physical events such as “changes in

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household configuration” and “holidays/special events” to relational turning points such as “conflict,” “quality time,” and “family crisis,” among others (cf. Golish, 2003). These researchers then provided a description of the changes in the levels of “feeling like a family” in five different trajectories of the first four years of development: Accelerated, prolonged, stagnant, declining, and high-amplitude turbulent. According to Baxter et al. (1999), the accelerated trajectory reflected a pattern of quick and sustained movement toward higher levels of feeling like a family. The declining trajectory, on the other hand, began with a high level of feeling like a family, but quickly declined to very low levels of feeling like a family by the end of the four-year period. The prolonged trajectory reflected stepfamilies in which movement toward feeling like a family progressed over a longer period of time, whereas the stagnating trajectory began and ended with relatively low levels of feeling like a family. Finally, the high-amplitude turbulent trajectory reflected stepfamilies that experienced a “roller-coaster” effect, with rapid increases and decreases in levels of feeling like a family (Baxter et al., 1999). Each of the trajectories, or developmental pathways, differed in terms of the frequency of different types of turning points as well as in reported levels of feeling like a family. Consequently, Baxter et al.’s (1999) research demonstrated that stepfamilies have different trajectories and timetables for development, each with corresponding levels of family functioning. Extending this research, Braithwaite and her colleagues (2001) then worked with the same data set to examine how members from each of the five stepfamily trajectories discursively managed issues of boundaries, solidarity, and adaptability. They found that members experienced different processes of interacting and forming appropriate roles and relationships over time. For example, an accelerated trajectory occurred when stepfamily members adopted the conventional, nuclear family model with its prescribed rules and family norms. On the other hand, members who identified with a declining trajectory experienced an initial degree of closeness that quickly diminished due to false expectations of needing to have an “instant family.” Stepfamilies that were successful in their ability to feel like a family developed and maintained flexible boundaries between households, whereas stepfamilies that were unable to successfully negotiate their family ties had boundaries that “became extremely rigid and impermeable, demarcating bloodlines and generations” (Braithwaite et al., 2001, p. 241). Overall, Braithwaite et al. (2001) found that families that let their bonds and roles within the family develop naturally, rather than adhering to the myths of “instant family” and “instant love” (Visher & Visher, 1993), were better able to establish close relationships over time. Both Baxter et al.’s (1999) and Braithwaite et al.’s (2001) findings underscore the mixed emotions and conflicting tensions that characterize some

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stepfamilies, but not others. In fact, building on their program of research and relying on perceptions of both stepfamily life (Schrodt, 2006a) and relationships with stepparents (Schrodt, 2006b), Schrodt (2006c) surveyed 586 stepchildren and identified five stepfamily types. Whereas bonded and functional stepfamilies were characterized by low levels of dissension and avoidance and relatively high levels of stepfamily involvement, flexibility, and expressiveness, evasive and conflictual stepfamilies were both characterized by relatively high levels of dissension and avoidance and moderately low levels of involvement, flexibility, and expressiveness. Intriguingly, ambivalent stepfamilies, which described the experiences of nearly one-quarter of the stepchildren included in Schrodt’s (2006c) sample, were characterized by slightly above-average levels of stepfamily dissension and avoidance and slightly below-average levels of involvement, flexibility, and expressiveness. More importantly, children from ambivalent stepfamilies reported having less communication competence and more mental health symptoms than stepchildren from bonded or functional stepfamilies, though they reported having more communication competence and fewer mental health symptoms than stepchildren from either evasive or conflictual stepfamilies (Schrodt, 2006c). Thus, for some stepchildren, ambivalence becomes a defining feature of their family environment that neither enhances nor hurts their relationships with other family members and their own well-being, relative to other stepfamily types. Nevertheless, Banker and Gaertner (1998) found that the more stepchildren were likely to perceive their stepfamily as one group, the more they perceived their stepfamily as being harmonious, which again stresses the importance of developing and managing boundaries during the process of becoming a stepfamily. In addition to in-group/out-group distinctions, questions of family membership also revolve around issues of boundary ambiguity in stepfamilies, including both physical and psychological ambiguity (Stewart, 2005). Drawing on national survey data, for example, Stewart (2005) found that boundary ambiguity (1) is much more prevalent in stepfamilies than in two-parent families, (2) is more prevalent in certain types of stepfamilies, such as those with nonresident stepchildren and/or those that are more structurally complex (i.e., both adults bringing children from previous unions as opposed to only one adult), and (3) is negatively associated with the quality of the couple’s relationship and the stability of the union, but only from the perspectives of wives or female partners. Further, Stewart (2005) found greater role ambiguity among nonresidential parents than among residential parents, and more recently, she identified a litany of problems that can occur when stepfamily members disagree about what type of stepfamily they belong to (e.g., a traditional family or not) (Stewart, 2007). Given that boundary ambiguity has been linked to both family conflict and adjustment problems for stepfamily members (Gosselin & David, 2007),

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Stewart’s findings call particular attention to role performance in stepfamilies. Thus, to follow, we review extant research on role ambivalence and ambiguity in stepfamily relationships.

Role Ambivalence and Ambiguity in Stepfamilies Although the developmental transition that occurs in new stepfamilies represents a period of change for all family members, perhaps the most important and challenging task during the transition involves negotiating the role of the stepparent (Fine et al., 1997, 1998, 1999; Ganong et al., 1999; Golish, 2003; Schrodt, 2006b; Schrodt, Soliz, & Braithwaite, 2008). As Ganong and Coleman (1994, 2004) noted, the stepparent–stepchild relationship is typically considered to be the most challenging and stressful relationship in stepfamilies. Contrary to other personal relationships that are freely chosen by relational partners, steprelationships are often involuntary, leaving very little motivation for stepchildren and stepparents to develop close bonds (Ganong et al., 1999). In response to this challenge, Fine, Ganong, Coleman, and their colleagues have developed a program of research examining some of the fundamental issues inherent to stepparent relationships (e.g., Fine et al., 1997, 1998, 1999; Fine & Kurdek, 1994; Ganong et al., 1999). In essence, the basic question concerns whether or not the stepparent should have an active or inactive role in the stepchildren’s lives (Fine et al., 1998). For example, Fine and Kurdek (1994) reported that remarried couples expected stepparents to be less active in childrearing than parents, whereas in earlier studies, parents and stepparents reported that stepparents should share equally in childrearing responsibilities (Giles-Sims, 1984). Thus, a considerable amount of variability exists in stepparent role expectations and enactments, providing fertile ground for relational ambiguity and ambivalence for stepparents, as well as for their (step)children and their spouse. Some scholars contend that the stepparent should do no more than try to build a friendship with the stepchild(ren), whereas others (e.g., Hetherington, 1999) have found that the long-term benefits of having the stepparent act as a parent outweigh the short-term benefits of having the stepparent simply act as a friend. In their program of research, Fine et al. (1998, 1999) found different perceptions of the stepparent role between adults and children in the stepfamily system. Children were more likely than parents or stepparents to indicate that they preferred the stepparent to function as a friend rather than as a parental figure. However, adults were generally more likely to discuss the stepparent role with each other than they were to discuss this role with their stepchildren. This, in turn, led to little consistency in perceptions of parenting behaviors (i.e., warmth and control

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behaviors) for stepparents among family members, an unfortunate consequence given that consistency in perceptions of the stepparent role was positively associated with stepfamily members’ interpersonal adjustment (Fine et al., 1998). Schrodt (2006b) recently argued that viewing the stepparent relationship in terms of the positive regard that stepparents establish with their stepchildren, the parental authority that stepchildren grant their stepparents (if at all), and the degree to which stepparents and stepchildren discuss their feelings and their relationships with each other may be more useful in the long run than trying to fit the stepparent into some pre-existing role or label, such as “parent” or “friend.” Indeed, liking is considered among scholars and clinicians to be an important factor in stepparent–stepchild bonding (Visher & Visher, 1996). For example, Ganong et al. (1999) explored the strategies that stepparents used to develop and maintain affinity with their stepchildren, and found three relatively distinct patterns of affinity-seeking and affinity-maintaining strategies among stepparents in their sample: Nonseeking stepparents, early affinity-seeking stepparents, and continuous affinityseeking stepparents. Not surprisingly, stepparents who were genuinely interested in establishing and maintaining close relationships with their stepchildren and continued their efforts well beyond the formation of the stepfamily (i.e., continuous affinity-seeking stepparents) were more likely to have stepchildren who reciprocated affinity-seeking efforts and developed close stepparent–stepchild relationships. Theoretically, the ambivalence that may occur for stepparents centers around issues of biological “ownness” (i.e., the entitlements and responsibilities associated with biological parent–child relationships in families, see Dawber & Kuczynski, 1999; Schrodt, 2008), as well as the absence of a societal script for how to be a good “stepparent” (Schrodt, 2006b). Such ambivalence may also vary as a function of whether or not the stepparent is a stepmother or a stepfather. For example, Schmeeckle (2007) found that stepmothers often act as meaningful gatekeepers to their husband’s biological children, though they are still seen by stepchildren as investing more energy into their relationships with their own biological children. In fact, one of the most common pop culture references to the dark side of stepfamilies is the “wicked stepmother” myth, a “stigma that places a significant strain on a stepmother’s self-esteem and role enactment” (Christian, 2005, p. 28). As a result of such stigmatization, stepmothers often face greater challenges in developing satisfying stepparent–stepchild bonds than stepfathers, with such challenges emerging as particularly salient for nonresidential stepmothers (Weaver & Coleman, 2005). As Schrodt (2008) recently reported, stepchildren who identified a stepmother as their primary stepparent (i.e., the stepparent they either lived with the longest or had known the longest) reported more stepfamily dissension and avoidance, and less stepfamily involvement,

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expressiveness, and flexibility than stepchildren who identified a stepfather as their primary stepparent. Although the stepparent role has received the lion’s share of scholarly attention, the issue of whether or not the stepparent should function as a “parent” is not the only issue facing stepfamily members. (Non)residential parents and (step)children must also navigate their own uncertainties, ambiguities, and ambivalence during the process of becoming a stepfamily. For instance, Coleman, Fine, Ganong, Downs, and Pauk (2001) found that residential parents (e.g., residential mothers) often wrestle with a “guard and protect” ideology with their new spouse or partner, in which the biological parent errs on the side of guarding and protecting their children’s interests in any disputes that may arise with the stepparent. At the same time, residential parents who have experienced divorce may also be managing tremendous tensions, ambivalence, and/or resentment toward their former spouses (Graham, 1997, 2003), particularly in stepfamilies where both exspouses are involved in the co-parenting of children (Braithwaite, McBride, & Schrodt, 2003; Schrodt et al., 2006). Nonresidential parents are perhaps even more likely to experience tension and ambivalence as they negotiate access and coordinate visitations with their ex-spouses and their ex-spouses’ new partners (i.e., the stepparents). Researchers have demonstrated that remarriage is associated with less frequent co-parental interaction (Maccoby & Mnookin, 1992), less reported parenting support from the former spouse, and more negative attitudes about the other parent (Christensen & Rettig, 1995), as well as diminished visitation with the children (Wolchik & Fenaughty, 1996). As Braithwaite and Baxter (2006) reported, stepchildren experience tremendous ambivalence and contradictions in relationships with their nonresidential parents. Such tensions and contradictions may constitute a primary source of the distancing that often occurs between nonresidential parents and their children in stepfamilies (cf. Schrodt et al., 2007), as stepchildren attempt to reconcile loyalty divides (cf. Amato & Afifi, 2006). Finally, (step)children may also be navigating tremendous role ambiguity and ambivalence in their relationships with other members of the family system, including stepparents, nonresidential parents, and/or stepsiblings. For instance, Baxter et al. (2004) found that stepchildren struggle with the tension of wanting both a one-parent authority system in which the residential parent alone enacts discipline in the family, and a two-parent authority system in which the parent and stepparent enact discipline as a couple. Speer and Trees (2007) recently examined stepchildren’s autonomy and connectionseeking behaviors with their stepparents, and found that perceptions of stepparents’ warmth behaviors were positively associated with stepchildren’s role clarity, which in turn was positively associated with connection-seeking behaviors and family satisfaction. Although these researchers did not

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examine indicators of adjustment and well-being, when coupled with Ganong et al.’s (1999) findings on stepparents’ affinity-seeking behaviors, their results do lend credence to the idea that role clarity in the stepparent–stepchild relationship is negotiated communicatively between both family members and may hold promise for furthering the well-being of individual family members and the stepfamily as a whole. In sum, researchers have examined the role ambiguities and ambivalence that different members of the stepfamily system experience, as well as issues related to stepfamily boundaries and questions of family membership. Collectively, both bodies of work (1) emerge from preliminary investigations of the stepparent role and of stepfamily development, (2) constitute one, if not the largest, source of existing research on stepfamilies, and (3) implicitly suggest that role ambivalence can be both functional and dysfunctional in stepfamily systems. That said, issues relevant to role expectations and performance place the theoretical locus of research primarily within the individual and, more recently, stepfamily researchers have begun to examine the tensions, contradictions, and mixed emotions that emerge as a function of the relational patterns that characterize the stepfamily system. Thus, in the next section of our chapter we review the relational and emotional ambivalence that stepfamily members experience during the process of becoming a stepfamily.

RELATIONAL AND EMOTIONAL AMBIVALENCE IN STEPFAMILIES In her most recent treatise on communication in stepfamilies, Afifi (2008) argues that “the stepfamily consists of a web of relationships, with communication serving as the means through which family members relate to each other” (p. 312). Although the stepfamily is not unique in that other family forms also comprise a web of relationships, the relationships that make up the stepfamily system may vary more so as a function of the unique communication abilities and patterns of different family members and, thus, can produce feelings and emotions that may distinguish it from other family forms. Specifically, we contend that stepfamily members experience unique manifestations of relational and emotional ambivalence as a function of at least three related, but distinct processes: Loyalty conflicts and triangulation, relational uncertainty and avoidance, and co-parenting relationships.

Loyalty Conflicts and Feelings of Triangulation in Stepfamilies One of the primary challenges associated with difficulty in stepfamilies is triangulation, or the loyalty conflicts that ensue when a covert coalition is

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formed, uniting one family member with another against a third person (Afifi, 2003; Afifi & Schrodt, 2003a; Baxter, Braithwaite, & Bryant, 2006; Braithwaite et al., 2008; Ganong & Coleman, 1994, 2004; Schrodt & Afifi, 2007; Schrodt & Ledbetter, 2007). Both Afifi and Schrodt’s (Afifi, 2003; Afifi & Schrodt, 2003a; Amato & Afifi, 2006; Schrodt & Afifi, 2007) and Braithwaite et al.’s (2008) research points to the difficulties that stepfamily members, and particularly stepchildren, face when placed in the position of feeling caught between their parents. Building from Buchanan, Maccoby, and Dornbusch’s (1991, 1996) research on children of divorce, Afifi (2003) used communication privacy management (CPM) theory (Petronio, 2002) to explore the relational patterns and communication behaviors that fostered feelings of being caught in stepchildren. Specifically, Afifi (2003) found that feelings of being caught were largely the result of inappropriate disclosures, using the child as a peer and/or co-parent, and using a family member as a messenger of information or as a mediator. Collectively, these behaviors created “communication boundaries that became enmeshed through revealing too much personal information” (p. 738), and implicit in Afifi’s findings was the relational ambivalence that stepfamily members experienced as they wrestled with the dialectical tensions of loyalty–disloyalty and revealment–concealment (Afifi, 2003). More importantly, Amato and Afifi (2006) examined adult children’s feelings of being caught between parents in both divorced and non-divorced families, and found that such feelings were associated with lower subjective well-being and poorer quality parent–child relationships. In fact, one of the conclusions drawn from this body of research is that despite similarities in the processes that foster triangulation, children from post-divorce families (including stepfamilies) continue to report higher levels of feeling caught between parents than children in first-marriage families (Schrodt & Afifi, 2007; Schrodt & Ledbetter, 2007). It is important to note, however, that marital conflict processes may ultimately be more responsible for such loyalty divides in children than divorce per se (Amato & Afifi, 2006). For example, Schrodt and Afifi (2007) found that when parents engage in symbolic forms of aggression, demand/withdraw patterns of conflict, and share negative disclosures about the other parent to their children, such behaviors exacerbate children’s feelings of being caught, which in turn negatively impacts their mental health and family satisfaction. These patterns emerged in both divorced and non-divorced families. Ironically, these same researchers have suggested elsewhere that while children of divorce may be more likely to experience feelings of triangulation, such feelings are likely to have a greater negative impact on the mental well-being of children in firstmarriage families because of their inability to escape their parents’ conflict patterns (e.g., Amato & Afifi, 2006; Schrodt & Ledbetter, 2007). Finally, Baxter, Braithwaite, and their colleagues (Baxter et al., 2006; Braithwaite et al., 2008) have used both in-depth interviews and focus groups

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to examine the triadic structures that may foster loyalty divides within stepfamilies, as well as the meanings that stepchildren attach to the experience of being caught between parents. Specifically, Baxter et al. (2006) identified four communication structures that characterized communication patterns in the parent–stepparent–stepchild triad, one of which had the potential to triangulate the parent rather than the child. For example, the linked triad occurred when the stepchild relied on indirect communication with the stepparent through his or her residential parent which, of course, had the potential to place the residential parent in a loyalty divide between their new relational partner and their child. Returning to stepchildren’s experiences with feelings of being caught, however, Braithwaite et al. (2008) found that to not feel caught in the middle is to feel centered in the stepfamily system, namely, as the object of the co-parents’ attention and loyalty. Underlying each of these programs of research on loyalty divides and triangulation in stepfamilies is an implicit assumption and empirical evidence that feeling caught between family members is primarily detrimental to one’s relational satisfaction and mental well-being. Although this is perhaps the case in most instances, some scholars have speculated that the communication processes that foster feelings of triangulation, such as negative disclosures and revealing too much personal information, may nevertheless carry positive relational outcomes for children, including additional information useful for reducing uncertainty about the divorce and the simultaneous experience of drawing closer to the disclosing parent (Afifi, Schrodt, & McManus, 2009; Schrodt & Afifi, 2007). At a minimum, then, the experience of feeling caught between one’s parents constitutes a dark side of stepfamily relationships both in terms of the deleterious consequences that such feelings may have on the family member’s well-being and in terms of the relational ambivalence that may exist as a function of being triangulated between two other family members. Given that (step)parents’ disclosures may help (step)children reduce their uncertainty about their new family environment, we turn our attention to relational uncertainty and avoidance as the second source of relational ambivalence in stepfamilies.

Relational Uncertainty and Avoidance in Stepfamilies Relative to existing research on stepfamily boundaries, roles, and feelings of triangulation, much less is known about processes of relational uncertainty and topic avoidance in stepfamily relationships, though there are a few notable exceptions (e.g., Afifi & Schrodt, 2003b; Golish, 2000; Golish & Caughlin, 2002). Relational uncertainty can be defined as “the degree of confidence people have in their perceptions of involvement within interpersonal relationships” (Knobloch, 2008, p. 139), and such confidence stems

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from self, partner, and relationship sources (Knobloch & Solomon, 2002). Thus, in one sense, relational uncertainty constitutes a dark side of stepfamily relationships given the relative dearth of empirical information on the impact that self, partner, and/or relational uncertainty have on stepfamily development. In a completely different sense, though, researchers have demonstrated that uncertainty may operate in both functional and dysfunctional ways for stepchildren as they manage the tensions and ambivalence associated with developing new relationships in the stepfamily. For example, DiVerniero (2009) recently conducted a qualitative analysis of stepchildren’s communication to manage uncertainty in stepfamilies. She identified six overarching categories of uncertainty for stepchildren, including uncertainty about (1) the “old” family, (2) the new stepparent, (3) the new stepsiblings, (4) the new extended stepfamily, (5) stressful events, and (6) rituals. More importantly, stepchildren managed their uncertainty across these domains using one of three strategies: (1) soliciting, which involved seeking and receiving social support from members of their social networks; (2) avoiding certain topics and situations in their new stepfamily for the purposes of both excluding certain family members (e.g., the nonresidential parent) and including others (e.g., the stepparent); and (3) accommodating their residential parent’s wishes by “biting the bullet” and making a concerted effort to get to know their new stepfamily members (p. 20). Not only do DiVerniero’s (2009) findings highlight the ambivalence that stepchildren feel toward their new stepfamily (e.g., “biting the bullet” while accommodating their parent’s wishes), but they also illustrate the tendency for stepchildren’s uncertainty and avoidance to coexist during stepfamily development. In an earlier report, Afifi and Schrodt (2003b) compared uncertainty and avoidance processes across adolescent and young adult children from first-marriage families, post-divorce single-parent families, and stepfamilies. They found that children from post-divorce single-parent families and stepfamilies reported greater uncertainty and greater avoidance of discussing the state of one’s family relationships than children from firstmarriage families. Their results also supported a positive linear association between children’s uncertainty about their family and their overall avoidance of the state of their family in stepfamilies and post-divorce single-parent families. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Afifi and Schrodt (2003b) discovered that although uncertainty levels in stepfamilies leveled off after six years of development and eventually approximated the levels of uncertainty found in first-marriage families, levels of avoidance remained higher in stepfamilies than in first-marriage families. Indeed, topic avoidance has been discussed elsewhere as a “dark side” to interpersonal relationships in general (see Afifi, Caughlin, & Afifi, 2007). In stepfamilies, however, researchers have examined adolescents’ and young adults’ use of topic avoidance with their biological parents and with their

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stepparents (e.g., Golish, 2000; Golish & Caughlin, 2002). Specifically, Golish (2000) investigated adolescents’ and young adults’ use of topic avoidance and its association with relational satisfaction and the parenting style of the stepparent. She found that the more satisfied children were with their mother, father, stepmother, stepfather, and stepfamily overall, the less avoidance they were likely to employ in each of these respective relationships. More importantly, Golish (2000) provided evidence to suggest that stepchildren’s avoidance patterns with their stepparents varied as a function of the stepparent’s parenting style, with authoritarian stepparenting producing a positive association with avoidance, and with both permissiveness and authoritativeness producing an inverse association with avoidance. In a follow-up study using the same sample, Golish and Caughlin (2002) then compared the types of topics avoided across the different types of parent–child relationships. Overall, adolescents and young adults engaged in the most topic avoidance with their stepparents (regardless of stepparent sex), followed by their fathers, and then their mothers in descending order of frequency. In addition to this general trend, their participants identified several commonly avoided topics, including talking about the other parent/ family, deep conversations, and money (e.g., child support payments), as well as frequently reported reasons for avoidance that included selfprotection, relationship protection, and conflict avoidance. In discussing their results, Golish and Caughlin (2002) used CPM theory to argue that adolescents and young adults might engage in topic avoidance so as to regulate their personal boundaries by constructing impermeable boundaries with some adults (e.g., stepparents) while maintaining looser boundaries with others (e.g., residential parents). In general, then, researchers have provided initial insights into uncertainty and avoidance processes in stepfamilies, though given their centrality to the experiences of stepchildren, much work remains to be done. For example, how might the reasons for topic avoidance in stepparent–stepchild relationships (e.g., self-protection, relationship protection, conflict avoidance) correspond with self, partner, and relational uncertainty? At what point do heightened levels of uncertainty and avoidance become problematic in stepfamily relationships? Might stepfamily members embrace greater levels of uncertainty and avoidance so as to protect themselves relationally and emotionally from feelings of triangulation? While the answers to these questions may hold promise for illuminating the dark side of relational uncertainty and avoidance, such hope seems more promising for children than for adults living in stepfamilies. For adults, however, the co-parenting relationship may provide an additional source of relational and emotional ambivalence given the unique challenges facing stepfamilies.

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Co-parenting Relationships in Stepfamilies In their most recent decade in review, Coleman et al. (2000) summarized empirical research on remarriage and stepfamily relationships from more than 850 publications in the 1990s. After synthesizing this tremendous body of work, Coleman et al. identified six broad categories of research within which 92% of the empirical findings could be classified. Ironically, research on co-parenting relationships between parents and stepparents (and between stepparents and nonresidential parents) was missing altogether from their review. Perhaps in the purest sense, then, co-parenting represents a dark side of stepfamily scholarship because of the dearth of empirical research on these relationships, relationships that are critical to healthy and satisfying stepfamily development. According to Feinburg (2003), “coparenting occurs when individuals have overlapping or shared responsibility for rearing particular children, and consists of the support and coordination (or lack of it) that parental figures exhibit in childrearing” (p. 96). Although considered a component of the interparental relationship, co-parenting does not include the parents’ romantic, financial, sexual, or other relations that are not directly associated with parenting children (McHale, Lauretti, Talbot, & Pouquette, 2002). Coparenting in stepfamilies presents its own unique set of challenges given that the co-parental relationship between parents and their new partners cooccurs and even, at times, precedes the development of the remarried relationship. Researchers have pointed to the importance of parents and stepparents creating and communicating a unified front to their children (Cissna, Cox, & Bochner, 1990; Golish, 2003). Nevertheless, several challenges remain as stepparents navigate tremendous role ambiguity within the stepfamily (Fine et al., 1998; Schrodt, 2006b), as biological parents sometimes wrestle with a “guard and protect” ideology toward their children that fuels stepfamily conflict (Coleman et al., 2001), and as loyalty conflicts and feelings of triangulation complicate stepfamily formation and development (Afifi, 2003; Afifi & Schrodt, 2003a; Amato & Afifi, 2006; Schrodt & Afifi, 2007). Recently, Schrodt, Braithwaite, and their colleagues began a series of investigations examining co-parenting relationships in stepfamilies. In one of their earlier reports (Braithwaite et al., 2003), they used diaries to record the frequency and content of interactions among co-parents over a typical two-week period. Not surprisingly, they found that most of the interactions that occurred between ex-spouses and between parents and their ex-spouse’s new partner (i.e., the stepparent) were very brief, very business-like, and focused almost exclusively on the welfare of the children. In a follow-up study using the same sample, Schrodt et al. (2006) employed structuration theory (Giddens, 1984) to examine the various ways in which co-parents, through their interpersonal communication patterns, negotiated

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the praxis of their co-parenting relationships in the “shadows” of the legal divorce decree. Specifically, these researchers identified two structures of signification, the first of which involved framing the decree as a legal document that dictated the rights and responsibilities of parenting (e.g., child access and financial issues), and the second of which involved framing the decree as a negotiating guide against which co-parents employed more informal co-parental decision-making processes. Throughout their discourse, Schrodt et al.’s (2006) participants evidenced a sense of ambivalence as they discussed how both of these structures of signification (i.e., decree as legal contract vs. decree as guide) enabled and constrained their co-parenting relationships with the other adults in the stepfamily system. For example, several co-parents discussed how the decree provided a guide for informal co-parenting decisions and cooperation unless (or until) one of the parents perceived that the other parent was taking advantage of their goodwill, at which point the decree was invoked as a more formal, legal resolution to their parenting disputes. Thus, several co-parents reported mixed emotions about the divorce decree as their co-parenting communication patterns oscillated back and forth between the decree as “guide” and the decree as “legal contract.” Finally, Schrodt and Braithwaite (2009) recently tested a series of actorpartner interdependence models of co-parental communication, relational satisfaction, and mental health in stepfamilies. Using survey responses from 127 stepfamily dyads, their results revealed two actor-oriented models whereby parents’ and stepparents’ co-parental communication quality positively predicted their own (but not their partner’s) satisfaction and mental health. A final model revealed that parents’ relational satisfaction mediated the effect of co-parental communication on their own mental health. In other words, supportive co-parental communication enhanced parents’ and stepparents’ satisfaction in their relationship, which in turn was associated with a decrease in their mental health symptoms. A similar pattern emerged for stepparents too, though co-parental communication continued to have a direct, positive effect on stepparents’ mental health. Importantly, a suppressor effect emerged such that after controlling for the effects that co-parental communication quality had on parents’ and stepparents’ relational satisfaction, parents’ co-parental communication produced an inverse, partner effect on stepparents’ mental health. That is, although quality co-parental communication enhances the relational satisfaction of both parents and stepparents, after controlling for the positive effects of co-parental communication quality on relational satisfaction, the extent to which parents rely on stepparents to help raise their offspring produces a small, negative effect on the stepparents’ mental health. Thus, Schrodt and Braithwaite’s (2009) findings highlight once again the potential stress and ambivalence stepparents may experience as they are called upon to help raise their spouse’s offspring.

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Taken together, Schrodt and Braithwaite’s investigations provide initial insight into the tensions and ambivalence co-parents may experience during the developmental process of becoming a stepfamily. The fundamental challenge that ex-spouses and their new relational partners face is that the co-parental relationship often co-occurs and even, at times, precedes the development of the remarried relationship. As Fine and Kurdek (1995) noted, stepparents are likely to view their new partners and new stepchildren as an integrated package, and given the potential for conflict over family resources and the affections of the biological parent (cf. Coleman et al., 2001), co-parenting relationships may constitute a primary source of tension, contradiction, and ambivalence for adults living in stepfamilies. When coupled with loyalty conflicts, feelings of triangulation, relational uncertainties, and topic avoidance, co-parenting relationships further illustrate the relational and emotional ambivalence inherent to the web of relationships that make up the stepfamily, a web that is crafted, sustained, and at times, dissolved through communication. Therefore, in the final two sections of this chapter, we summarize recent empirical evidence on the communicative ambivalence that characterizes stepfamily relationships before concluding with directions for future research.

COMMUNICATIVE AMBIVALENCE IN STEPFAMILY RELATIONSHIPS One of the real strengths of extant stepfamily research is its interdisciplinary nature, and we see the contributions of different disciplinary lenses as scholars explore the dark and light sides of stepfamily life. As noted earlier in this chapter, we eschew the tendency to view stepfamilies as incomplete or deficient because they are different from first-marriage families, and yet, we recognize the burden families residing outside traditional structures often experience. From the enactment of (step)family rituals (Braithwaite, Baxter, & Harper, 1998), to patterns of everyday talk (Schrodt et al., 2007, 2008), to the communication strengths that facilitate coping and resiliency processes (Golish, 2003), these families find they must create and negotiate their boundaries and expectations within and without the walls of their home (Galvin, 2006), underscoring the central role of communication in constituting and enacting stepfamily identities and relationships (Baxter, 2004; Galvin, 2006). Thus, this perspective highlights communication as stepfamily members and those in their social webs interact and negotiate an understanding of individual and family identity, roles, and expectations for interaction and behavior. We see the constitutive function of communication interwoven in places into the earlier sections of this chapter on role ambivalence and relational and emotional ambivalence. However, the constitutive function of

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communication is especially relevant to understanding stepfamilies via communicative ambivalence. In what follows, we briefly examine two sources of communicative ambivalence in stepfamilies, beginning with one theoretical perspective that has been especially useful in highlighting the first source of communicative ambivalence: Relational Dialectics Theory (RDT). RDT has proven to be a particularly insightful theory for illuminating the contradictions and tensions evident in stepfamily members’ discourse. We then conclude this section by briefly reviewing the ambivalence that stepfamily members experience as they employ different stepfamily address terms. Guiding research via RDT (Baxter, 2010; Baxter & Braithwaite, 2008, 2010; Baxter & Montgomery, 1996) focuses researchers’ attention on the different ways family members negotiate and communicatively constitute the inherently multivocal, and often fragmented and tension-filled, interactions in relationships (Baxter, 2010; Baxter & Braithwaite, 2010). From this perspective, meaning-making emerges from the discursive struggle of relating. Scholars engaging RDT have examined the process of meaningmaking that emerges from the interplay of different discourses that are at times oppositional, and focuses attention on those discourses that are privileged and given voice and those that are muted (Baxter, 2010; Baxter & Braithwaite, 2010). For example, this interview excerpt from a stepdaughter highlights the discursive struggles present in the discourse of stepfamily members: I think that if [my stepmother] would have just said “You kids need to do this” or “You kids need to come home at a decent time” . . . I think that if she would have said that to us, we would have had more respect for her in the long run. We would have respected her for coming to us. At the same time we would have been mad because we didn’t want to come home early . . . [Stepparents] need to be involved in [a] child’s life. They need to act as if it is their own child but yet give them the space that they need, also. (Baxter et al., 2004, p. 459)

Thus, RDT researchers studying stepfamilies have focused on the identification of contradictions in the discourse of stepfamily members to enlighten discursive struggles in (1) stepparent–stepchild relationships, (2) co-parenting relationships, and (3) nonresidential parents’ relationships with their children. First, as we discussed earlier, the stepparent–stepchild relationship is often fraught with challenges. Focusing on the discourses within this relationship from the perspective of young adult stepchildren, Baxter et al. (2004) identified three underlying contradictions that permeated the discourse of stepparent–stepchild relationships (exemplified in the stepdaughter’s discourse on her stepmother presented in the previous paragraph). First, stepchildren wanted emotional closeness and a relationship with their

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stepparent. At the same time, their discourse reflected the desire for emotional distance out of feelings of loyalty to their old family, particularly the nonresidential parent. Second, stepchildren wanted communication that reflected openness with the stepparent and, at the same time, they eschewed such open communication. Third, stepchildren’s discourse revealed a dialectical tension of desiring parental authority to rest only in the residential parent, yet at the same time, they often wanted discipline from their stepparent as well. Consequently, these competing discourses created tremendous ambivalence in the stepchild–stepparent relationship (e.g., Baxter et al., 2004; Braithwaite et al., 2001). Second, RDT sheds light on the complexities of the co-parenting relationship, especially the implications of co-parents’ communication on the well-being of their children. Building on previous work on triangulation (e.g. Afifi, 2003; Afifi & Schrodt, 2003a; Baxter et al., 2006), Braithwaite et al. (2008) invited young adult stepchildren to take part in focus-group discussions and discovered that the stepchildren’s discourse centered on how they navigated feeling caught between their parents. The researchers heard competing discourses wherein children wanted to be centered in the attention of their parents, and at the same time wanted to avoid being caught in the middle, as exemplified by the stepchild who talked about feeling “like a bone between two dogs” in the quote at the beginning of this chapter. Framed in RDT, the researchers argued that stepchildren’s desires to be centered were animated by managing two interrelated dialectical tensions of freedom–constraint and openness–closedness. Stepchildren struggled with communication from one or both parents that constrained the possibility of being centered without being caught, for example, when one parent critiqued the other in front of the child. This was tied to the second contradiction of openness–closedness as children wanted enough information from their parents to be able to know what was going on, and at the same time desired closedness from their parents, not wanting to hear information that made them feel uncomfortable. Thus, in some ways, these competing discourses resembled paradoxical interactions for stepchildren as they simultaneously desired the very thing (i.e., disclosures) which produced and perpetuated their feelings of discomfort, guilt, and anxiety (cf. Wilder & Collins, 1994). Third, scholars have used RDT to enlighten the relationships and interactions of nonresidential parents and their children. For instance, Braithwaite and Baxter (2006) interviewed young adult stepchildren and focused on the contradictions that animated discourse with their nonresidential parent. They identified interrelated discourses of parenting and nonparenting, coupled with openness and closedness. While we would expect that most children would want a close parent–child relationship with their nonresidential parent (usually a father), the children in their sample

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were quite ambivalent when their nonresidential father or mother tried to parent them. At times, they perceived that the nonresidential parent did not have the experience or background in the child’s daily life to be helpful to them. Related, stepchildren’s discourse reflected the desire for intimate and open communication with their nonresidential parent, while at the same time they often found openness difficult. As one stepchild explained, “Like the times that I’m there to visit . . . when we’re forced to communicate . . . he really, really wants to be a part of it and I try, but he’s not there and it’s hard because he doesn’t understand” (Braithwaite & Baxter, 2006, p. 39). Finally, although not grounded in RDT, Kellas and her colleagues (2008) recently examined stepfamily address terms and found that nearly two-thirds of the stepchildren in their sample varied the terms of address they used to identify their stepfamily members depending on context, audience, and/or relationship. Whether using formal address terms that defined the person in reference to a third party (e.g., “my dad’s wife”), familiar terms that included stepparents’ first names or included the word “step” in reference to the parent or sibling, or familial terms that dropped the prefix “step” (e.g., using “mom” instead of “stepmom”), stepchildren engaged in both internal and external code-switching. Such code-switching functioned to communicate solidarity at times, to communicate separateness at other times, and to manage the balance of stepfamily life. Intriguingly, Kellas et al. (2008) found communicative ambivalence in stepchildren’s use of address terms, as address terms were both important and unimportant; sometimes they mattered and sometimes they didn’t. As one of the participants in Kellas et al.’s investigation observed, “there’s not a strong emotional attachment yet you’re using these words that have this really deep meaning as far as their attachment to you, so it’s really awkward” (p. 253). Thus, “the contradictions between the importance and nonimportance of stepfamily address terms in participants’ interviews suggests a potentially complex system of rules, meanings, and processes for managing identity and meaning in and outside of the family” (Kellas et al., 2008, p. 259). In other words, how stepfamily members use different address terms to manage the ambivalence and tensions associated with different stepfamily relationships affords researchers yet another opportunity to explore the functional ambivalence that characterizes the competing discourses of stepfamily life.

CONCLUSIONS AND DIRECTIONS FOR FUTURE RESEARCH Each body of research reviewed within this chapter highlights, either implicitly or explicitly, the ambivalence that stepfamily members experience as they navigate the “dark clouds” of stepfamily development. Ironically, however, each of the dark clouds contains a “silver lining,” in that each

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manifestation of ambivalence signals an opportunity for stepfamily members to craft their own unique relationships independent of what society deems as normal or functional. Although our review is by no means exhaustive, we have highlighted three forms of ambivalence that we contend distinguish the experiences of stepfamilies from the experiences of first-marriage families and positions stepfamilies as qualitatively distinct from other family forms: Role ambivalence, relational and emotional ambivalence, and communicative ambivalence. While there are certainly times when these three forms of ambivalence are indeed challenging and dysfunctional to stepfamilies, we recognize the dialectic of the dark and light sides of stepfamily relationships. We also acknowledge that each form of ambivalence may vary in its intensity depending on other factors not reviewed here (e.g., demographic characteristics). However, we believe that ambivalence can contribute to the fluidity and creativity of stepfamily family members to create something unique, relationships that often lead different stepfamilies down different developmental pathways (e.g., Baxter et al., 1999; Schrodt, 2006c). This view of stepfamilies encourages researchers and practitioners to view stepfamilies in their own right, rather than as a “lesser cousin” to the traditional nuclear family form. In essence, such a move recognizes that stepfamilies possess both the opportunity and the burden that other “discourse dependent” (Galvin, 2006) families have, namely that they must create and legitimate their identity, roles, and expectations via family interaction. With this in mind, we encourage future researchers to examine factors that may help stepfamily members manage the ambiguities, relational uncertainties, and tensions that undermine healthy stepfamily functioning. For example, scholars might examine parental confirmation (Ellis, 2002) and/or disconfirmation (Wilder & Collins, 1994) as one factor that ameliorates the feelings of triangulation that stepchildren experience, especially in stepfamilies formed post-divorce. Research is also needed to identify the types of behaviors that build healthy and satisfying stepparent–stepchild relationships. With a few notable exceptions (e.g., Fine et al., 1998; Ganong et al., 1999; Schrodt, 2006b), researchers have yet to identify communication behaviors that are likely to enhance this pivotal relationship. Likewise, researchers need to examine stepfamily relationships beyond the confines of a single household, as the bulk of stepfamily research has focused primarily on the parent–stepparent–stepchild triad, and much less is known about relationships with stepsiblings, half-siblings, stepgrandparents (for a notable exception, see Soliz, 2007) and other relationships within the extended stepfamily system. Finally, we echo Afifi’s (2008) call for continued research that identifies the coping mechanisms and resiliency behaviors that enable stepfamily members to adjust to living in what is often a complex relational environment. Through these types of investigations, family scholars and practitioners may further our abilities to forecast the warm and cold

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fronts of ambivalence that so often produce the dark clouds of stepfamily development.

REFERENCES Afifi, T. D. (2003). “Feeling caught” in stepfamilies: Managing boundary turbulence through appropriate communication privacy rules. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 20, 729–755. Afifi, T. D. (2008). Communication in stepfamilies: Stressors and resilience. In J. Pryor (Ed.), The international handbook of stepfamilies: Policy and practice in legal, research, and clinical environments (pp. 299–320). Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Afifi, T. D., Caughlin, J., & Afifi, W. (2007). The dark side (and light side) of avoidance and secrets. In B. H. Spitzberg & W. R. Cupach (Eds.), The dark side of interpersonal communication (2nd ed., pp. 61–92). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Afifi, T. D., & Schrodt, P. (2003a). “Feeling caught” as a mediator of adolescents’ and young adults’ avoidance and satisfaction with their parents in divorced and nondivorced households. Communication Monographs, 70, 142–173. Afifi, T. D., & Schrodt, P. (2003b). Uncertainty and the avoidance of the state of one’s family in stepfamilies, post-divorce single parent families, and first marriage families. Human Communication Research, 29, 516–532. Afifi, T. D., Schrodt, P., & McManus, T. (2009). The divorce disclosure model: Why parents disclose negative information about the divorce to their children and its effects. In T. D. Afifi & W. Afifi (Eds.), Uncertainty and information regulation in interpersonal contexts: Theories and applications (pp. 403–425). New York: Routledge. Amato, P. R., & Afifi, T. D. (2006). Feeling caught between parents: Adult children’s relations with parents and subjective well-being. Journal of Marriage and Family, 68, 222–235. Banker, B. S., & Gaertner, S. L. (1998). Achieving stepfamily harmony: An intergrouprelations approach. Journal of Family Psychology, 12, 310–325. Baxter, L. A. (2004). Relationships as dialogues. Personal Relationships, 11, 1–22. Baxter, L. A. (2010). Voicing relationships: A dialogic approach. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Baxter, L. A., & Braithwaite, D. O. (2008). Relational dialectics theory: Crafting meaning from competing discourses. In L. A. Baxter & D. O. Braithwaite (Eds.), Engaging theories in interpersonal communication: Multiple perspectives (pp. 349–361). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Baxter, L. A., & Braithwaite, D. O. (2010). Relational dialectics theory, applied. In S. W. Smith & S. R. Wilson (Eds.), New directions in interpersonal communication (pp. 48–66). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Baxter, L. A., Braithwaite, D. O., & Bryant, L. E. (2006). Types of communication triads perceived by young-adult stepchildren in established stepfamilies. Communication Studies, 57, 381–400. Baxter, L. A, Braithwaite, D. O., Bryant, L., & Wagner, A. (2004). Stepchildren’s perceptions of the contradictions in communication with stepparents. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 21, 447–467. Baxter, L. A., Braithwaite, D. O., & Nicholson, J. H. (1999). Turning points in the development of blended families. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 16, 291–313.

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Fine, M. A., Coleman, M., & Ganong, L. H. (1998). Consistency in perceptions of the step-parent role among step-parents, parents, and stepchildren. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 15, 811–829. Fine, M. A., Ganong, L. H., & Coleman, M. (1997). The relation between role constructions and adjustment among stepfathers. Journal of Family Issues, 18, 503–525. Fine, M. A., Ganong, L. H., & Coleman, M. (1999). A social constructionist multimethod approach to understanding the stepparent role. In E. M. Hetherington (Ed.), Coping with divorce, single-parenthood, and remarriage: A risk and resiliency perspective (pp. 273–294). Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum. Fine, M. A., & Kurdek, L. A. (1994). Parenting cognitions in stepfamilies: Differences between parents and stepparents and relations to parenting satisfaction. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 11, 95–112. Fine, M. A., & Kurdek, L. A. (1995). Relation between marital quality and (step)parent-child relationship quality for parents and stepparents in stepfamilies. Journal of Family Psychology, 9, 216–223. Galvin, K. (2006). Diversity’s impact on defining the family: Discourse-dependence and identity. In L. H. Turner & R. West (Eds.), The family communication sourcebook (pp. 3–19). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Ganong, L. H., & Coleman, M. (1994). Remarried family relationships. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Ganong, L. H., & Coleman, M. (2004). Stepfamily relationships: Development, dynamics, and interventions. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers. Ganong, L., Coleman, M., Fine, M., & Martin, P. (1999). Stepparents’ affinity-seeking and affinity-maintaining strategies with stepchildren. Journal of Family Issues, 20, 299–327. Giddens, A. (1984). The constitution of society. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Giles-Sims, J. (1984). The stepparent role: Expectations, behavior, and sanctions. Journal of Family Issues, 5, 116–130. Golish, T. D. (2000). Is openness always better?: Exploring the role of topic avoidance, satisfaction, and parenting styles of stepparents. Communication Quarterly, 48, 137–158. Golish, T. D. (2003). Stepfamily communication strengths: Understanding the ties that bind. Human Communication Research, 29, 41–80. Golish, T. D., & Caughlin, J. P. (2002). “I’d rather not talk about it”: Adolescents’ and young adults’ use of topic avoidance in stepfamilies. Journal of Applied Communication Research, 30, 78–106. Gosselin, J., & David, H. (2007). Risk and resilience factors linked with the psychosocial adjustment of adolescents, stepparents and biological parents. Journal of Divorce & Remarriage, 48(1/2), 29–53. Graham, E. E. (1997). Turning points and commitment in post-divorce relationships. Communication Monographs, 64, 351–367. Graham, E. E. (2003). Dialectic contradictions in postmarital relationships. Journal of Family Communication, 3, 193–214. Gross, P. (1987). Defining post-divorce remarriage families: A typology based on the subjective perceptions of children. Journal of Divorce, 10(1–2), 205–217. Hetherington, E. M. (1999). Family functioning and the adjustment of adolescent siblings in diverse types of families. Monographs of the Society for Research in Child Development, 64(4, Serial No. 259), 1–25. Kellas, J. K., LeClair-Underberg, C., & Normand, E. L. (2008). Stepfamily address

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Soliz, J. (2007). Communicative predictors of a shared family identity: Comparison of grandchildren’s perceptions of family-of-origin grandparents and stepgrandparents. Journal of Family Communication, 7, 177–194. Speer, R. B., & Trees, A. R. (2007). The push and pull of stepfamily life: The contribution of stepchildren’s autonomy and connection-seeking behaviors to role development in stepfamilies. Communication Studies, 58, 377–394. Stewart, S. D. (2005). Boundary ambiguity in stepfamilies. Journal of Family Issues, 26, 1002–1029. Stewart, S. D. (2007). Brave new stepfamilies: Diverse paths toward stepfamily living. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Teachman, J., & Tedrow, L. (2008). The demography of stepfamilies in the United States. In J. Pryor (Ed.), The international handbook of stepfamilies: Policy and practice in legal, research, and clinical environments (pp. 3–29). Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc. U.S. Bureau of the Census. (2003). Adopted children and stepchildren: 2000 (Census 2000 Special Reports: CENSR-6RV). Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office. Visher, E. B., & Visher, J. S. (1993). Remarriage families and stepparenting. In F. Walsh (Ed.), Normal family processes (2nd ed., pp. 235–253). New York: Guilford. Visher, E. B., & Visher, J. S. (1996). Therapy with stepfamilies. New York: Brunner/Mazel. Weaver, S. E., & Coleman, M. (2005). A mothering but not a mother role: A grounded theory study of the nonresidential stepmother role. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 22, 477–497. Wilder, C., & Collins, S. (1994). Patterns of interactional paradoxes. In W. R. Cupach & B. H. Spitzberg (Eds.), The dark side of interpersonal communication (pp. 83–103). Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Wolchik, S. A., & Fenaughty, A. M. (1996). Residential and nonresidential parents’ perspectives on visitation problems. Family Relations, 45, 230–237.

11

Women’s Relationships with Incarcerated Men Susan A. Miller and Diane H. Felmlee

Ebony wakes up at 5 a.m. in a one-bedroom apartment in downtown Oakland, California. Today is visiting day with her husband Darnell, who is back in state prison for a parole violation. Darnell has five months left to serve on his initial three-year sentence for narcotics possession and sales. As Ebony gets her first cup of coffee and readies the cereal bowls for her five-year-old twins, she worries about the baby who seems unusually cranky this morning. To save money she has been supplementing the baby’s formula with the milk she gets through WIC (a Federal supplemental nutrition program for women and children), and she is very worried that the baby might not be getting enough nutrition. Ebony loves Darnell, and she wants him to see the baby who was born shortly after he was sent back inside. She also knows that in order to visit him three times a week, as she promised, she has to watch every penny. Visiting Darnell via the bus, with the three children in tow, could stretch her financial and emotional resources to the breaking point.

Each year millions of women in the United States, like Ebony, have a husband or boyfriend in prison (Comfort, 2003; Comfort, Grinstead, McCartney, Bourgois, & Knight, 2005). Many of these women maintain ties with their partner at great personal cost. These women struggle with severe financial difficulties as well as with the burdens involved in raising children alone (Christian, 2005) and face the problems of fulfilling multiple familial roles (Carlson & Cervera, 1992). According to Comfort (2003), women who visit at a correctional facility also encounter a punishing situation in which they face “restricted rights, diminished resources, and social marginalization . . . even though they are legally innocent and reside outside of the prison’s boundaries” (p. 79). Family members of serious offenders also suffer from the shame and stigma associated with an incarcerated family member (Condry, 2007).

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Why do women stay in these relationships? Are women themselves “prisoners” of their situation? In order to address these questions, we gathered data from a sample of 127 women who visited incarcerated men in a major California prison over a one-and-a-half-year period. The project employed methodological “triangulation” and included questionnaires, structured and unstructured interviews, and intensive observation. In our study we draw insights from social exchange theory and theories of social inequality to examine the following three research questions: First, to what degree are the women who visit prison inmates satisfied with their relationship with their husbands or boyfriends? Second, how committed are they to staying in these relationships? Third, what factors influence their degree of satisfaction with, and commitment to, their relationships? In other words, why are some satisfied and why do they intend to stay in these relationships? Our analysis of these questions provides a window into the burdens faced by a large, often ignored, and disadvantaged segment of our society and highlights fundamental social ills, such as those of poverty, sexism, racism, and social class inequality. The women we study also introduce us to some of the serious problems facing loved ones who have to deal not only with the incarceration of a husband or partner, but with the vagaries and complexities of today’s massive and over-populated correctional institutions. Our study represents not only an examination of prison visitors, but also a snapshot of a subset of women who lack the privileges of those located in more advantaged positions in our society. Exploring this topic also extends the study of relationship quality to groups not typically investigated by relationship researchers and thus has the potential to inform sociological theories of intimate satisfaction and commitment. With few exceptions (e.g., Orbuch & Brown, 2006; Orbuch, Veroff, Hassan, & Horrocks, 2002; Rusbult & Martz, 1995) most studies of relationship quality focus on middle-class White couples and college students (Felmlee & Sprecher, 2000). Our sample, however, consists largely of impoverished and relatively uneducated women who typically earn less than $20,000 per year, most of whom have not completed a high school degree. Women of color make up about two-thirds of our sample, and most of our participants are mothers (79%) and, in a number of cases, single mothers. An examination of the perceptions of these women may provide a more thorough understanding of the topics investigated herein and challenge some of our pre-existing theoretical assumptions. Another reason to explore this topic is that prisoners who receive visitors participate in fewer infractions within the institution (Gendreau, Goggin, & Law, 1997; Wooldredge, 1991) and are better able to integrate themselves back into society when they are released (Casey-Acevedo & Bakken, 2001; Casey-Acevedo, Bakken, & Karle, 2004; Schafer, 1991, 1994). Furthermore,

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strong, long-lasting, and satisfying emotional attachments help to deter people from criminal activity (Giordano, Schroeder, & Cernkovich, 2007; Laub, Nagin, & Sampson, 1998; Warr, 1998). Romantic love, for example, discourages subsequent involvement in both crime and substance abuse among youth (McCarthy & Casey, 2008). Intimate relationships presumably deter illegal activity by sensitizing potential offenders to the negative reactions of significant others (Hirschi, 1969; Laub & Sampson, 1993) and by exposing individuals to fewer opportunities for criminal pursuits (Gottfredson & Hirschi, 1990; Hirschi, 1969). Thus, satisfying relationships with partners are likely to benefit the inmates whom women visit and aid in reducing criminal recidivism, therefore providing further impetus for the study of satisfaction and commitment in these bonds.

SOCIAL EXCHANGE THEORY AND RELATIONSHIP QUALITY Social exchange theory represents perhaps the most prominent theory used to explain the quality of intimate relationships. This perspective focuses on the costs and benefits of social interaction and examines the degree to which people depend on one another through processes of interdependence (Blau, 1964; Cook & Emerson, 1987; Homans, 1974). According to Emerson’s (1972a, 1972b) power-dependence theory, one actor’s power in an exchange relates inversely to the degree of dependence of one actor on the other. Exchange theory explains how relations between people develop and how interaction leads to social structural change (Molm, Quist, & Wiseley, 1994).

Satisfaction The principles of social exchange interdependence theory, as outlined by Thibaut and Kelley (1959; Kelley & Thibaut, 1978), are applied frequently to the study of close relationships. The fundamental premise is straightforward: Relationships will be more satisfying if they provide high rewards and low costs. In close relationships, rewards include factors such as companionship, love, support, status, and sexual gratification (Brehm, 1992). Costs involve undesirable and punishing consequences, such as financial expenditures, arguing, and psychological stress. In a rudimentary exchange approach, a woman’s intimate relationship with a prison inmate might be viewed as highly unsatisfactory, given the relative lack of tangible rewards and high costs. The constraints of incarceration exclude most of what is commonly perceived to be satisfying in such relationships. Women are physically separated from their partners, have minimal and highly structured contact with them and, except in rare

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cases of conjugal visitations, have no approved access to intimate relations. Furthermore, these women bear a multitude of financial and emotional costs. They spend a great deal of time and effort visiting their partners. The emotional and social costs include the stigma, stress, and depression often associated with being involved with a prisoner. Children are apt to affect women’s perceptions of relational satisfaction and commitment as well, but in a complex manner. On the one hand, children are a source of intimate connection and joy that can enhance a woman’s feelings of happiness and fulfillment. Sharing children together may bring a couple closer together. On the other hand, in the best of situations, childrearing is a demanding task, emotionally and financially. Indeed, a meta-analysis of over 148 samples finds that parents report lower marital satisfaction than nonparents, and that this negative association between children and satisfaction is especially large for mothers of young infants (Twenge, Campbell, & Foster, 2003). Childrearing with an incarcerated mate poses additional obstacles to those faced by the average parent. Therefore, we expect that the presence of children will act largely as a relationship cost in our sample and yield lower levels of relationship satisfaction. According to Thibaut and Kelley (1959), people also examine their current relationships in terms of their expectations, or comparison levels (CL), which reflect their assessments of their own, and others’, relationship experiences. For example, some women in this sample may have had troubled interactions with a partner in the past and have a relatively low CL. Thus, women’s expectations for an intimate relationship compose another factor that likely influences their perceptions of satisfaction. Furthermore, social comparison theorists argue that people tend to evaluate the quality of a relationship in comparison with the relationships of others who are similarly socially situated (Festinger, 1954). Note that the majority of these women come from communities in which a sizable proportion of the population has had experience with the U.S. prison system. The individuals in our sample are not always strangers to the prison system, having had connections to incarcerated family members, friends, or former partners. Numerous studies conducted in the United States as well as in other countries support the underlying propositions of social exchange theory, and its variations, when applied to relationships and marriages outside the prison system (e.g., Kurdek, 2000; Rusbult, 1980a, 1980b; Rusbult, Martz, & Agnew, 1998). Bui, Peplau, and Hill (1996), for example, examined 167 heterosexual couples and found that relationship satisfaction related significantly to rewards and costs and that commitment was associated with satisfaction, investments, and quality of alternatives. In a study of married couples, spousal satisfaction, investments, and quality of alternatives each predicted marital commitment over an 18-month period (Impett, Beals, &

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Peplau, 2001). Kurdek (1991) also found support for the tenets of the social exchange interdependence model in an analysis of the relationship satisfaction and stability of gay and lesbian couples.

Commitment One of the most powerful predictors of relationship stability, according to social exchange theory, is commitment. Commitment is broadly defined as the degree to which an individual feels psychologically attached to a relationship and to the intention of maintaining a relationship. Satisfaction and its determinants are one predictor of commitment, according to a social exchange interdependence perspective. A second criterion is the outcome an individual receives in a relationship relative to the potential outcomes attainable in alternative relationships (Thibaut & Kelley, 1959), and this is defined as the comparison level for alternatives (CLalt). Individuals may be dissatisfied with a current relationship, but unlikely to leave unless a better opportunity unfolds. Access to alternatives represents a critical factor that determines a person’s level of dependence on another individual and ultimately shapes his or her power in that relationship (Emerson, 1972a). Note that women who maintain relationships with inmates are apt to face restricted opportunities for alternative pairings. Social structural conditions of urban poverty make many men unavailable as mates due to high rates of unemployment, homicide, drug addiction, and incarceration (Brien, 1997; Spanier & Glick, 1980). Children further restrict women’s options for obtaining a new partner. In such cases, maintaining a current relationship, no matter how costly, may appear to be the most attractive alternative for the provision of a spouse or partner. Moreover, according to Rusbult’s Investment Model (Rusbult, Johnson, & Morrow, 1986), commitment to a relationship will increase depending on the degree to which an individual has invested resources into the relationship. Investments are defined as resources put into relationships that are irretrievable, and they include tangible goods, such as shared household items, as well as time, energy, and psychological factors. Termination of an ongoing relationship incurs costs, because of such investments (Levinger, 1999). A recent meta-analysis finds extensive evidence for the Investment Model, with satisfaction, alternatives, and investments in a relationship each significantly relating to relationship commitment, and with commitment significantly predicting breakups (Le & Agnew, 2003). In the case we investigate, relationship investments include the financial expenditures incurred while visiting the prison.

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HYPOTHESES We hypothesize that satisfaction will be positively related to relationship rewards and negatively related to relationship costs. Rewards are captured by measures of love towards, and closeness to, a partner. Costs include arguing, the financial costs of visiting, and the presence of children. Additionally, we expect that when women believe that their relationship is better than that of others, and when they report that it has met their expectations, their level of satisfaction will be relatively high. In addition, we examine how having friends and family members who share the same experience of visiting an inmate shapes relationship satisfaction. We expect that higher levels of satisfaction, as measured by costs, rewards, and comparison variables, will be related to higher levels of commitment. We also hypothesize that women who view themselves as having few viable alternatives to their current relationship (low CLalt) will be more committed to the current one. In addition, we expect that high investments, as measured by the financial cost of visiting, will be associated with higher levels of commitment. According to our model, individuals’ perceptions of their investments and other factors, not necessarily the external, “objective” measures of these factors, influence individuals’ relationship satisfaction and commitment.

METHODS Setting and Sample Data collection took place over an 18-month period at a northern California state prison beginning in 2000. The lead author worked as a volunteer at the prison visitor’s center, The Haven, a hospitality house located directly across from the main prison gate, funded and administered by a nonprofit organization. The volunteer job consisted primarily of doing whatever needed to be done to make visiting easier for women. Activities included answering phones, helping with daycare, organizing activities, and providing rides to bus stops and train stations. The tasks also involved assisting women to locate clothes in The Haven’s exchange closet when they had been denied permission to visit because, according to prison guards, their clothing was inappropriate. In addition, many hours were spent simply hanging out with women and their children, who typically encountered delays during their visits. During these delays, women shared their life stories, and talked about their husbands, boyfriends, families, and work. The lead author always identified herself as a researcher and graduate student. Women who were willing were provided with a questionnaire. Women were also interviewed

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and given questionnaires in locales other than The Haven, such as “The Pipe,” that is, the tunnel leading directly to the prison. Detailed field notes were compiled after every visit. The respondents received modest financial compensation to complete the questionnaire.

Questionnaire Three months after the start of the field study, we developed and tested a survey instrument. Six months after the study began, we started gathering survey data. The questionnaire sample consisted of 137 women who completed the survey instrument. Women were given the option of filling out the questionnaire themselves or completing it in an interview format. Interviews facilitated data collection from many women who exhibited low levels of literacy, or whose native language was Spanish, and allowed women to add explanatory information.

Dependent Variable: Satisfaction. We used a global measure of satisfaction in which participants were asked: “How satisfied are you with your relationship?” The responses were on a seven-point scale that ranged from 1 (“very unsatisfied”) through 4 (“somewhat satisfied”) to 7 (“completely satisfied”). An open-ended follow-up question asked women to explain their numerical response. Dependent Variable: Commitment. We used a global measure of commitment, in the form of the following question: “How committed are you to your relationship?” The responses were on a scale that ranged from 1 (not at all) to 7 (completely.) Another open-ended question asked women to explain their numerical response. Covariates: Rewards and Costs. To capture relationship rewards, we measured the extent to which women said they loved their partners and how close they felt to their partner using seven-point scales (1 = not at all, 4 = somewhat, 7 = completely). In addition, an open-ended question asks women: “What is the most rewarding thing about your relationship?” One measure of costs was the presence of minor children living with them (dichotomous variable; yes/no). We also included detailed questions about the financial cost of visiting. We asked women how much money (if any) they put on their partner’s prisoner accounts, the average costs of mailing packages, and the average monthly expense for telephone calls from the prison. These

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measures were combined to form an overall monthly financial cost variable. To capture a more subjective form of cost, we asked women about the degree of arguing in their relationship, on a 7-point scale (1 = “not at all,” 7 = “always”).

Comparison Level (CL). We asked women about their expectations regarding their current relationship using a seven-point scale item: “To what extent has your relationship met your expectations?” (1 = not at all; 4 = somewhat; 7 = completely). Another comparison level measure requested that women compare their relationship directly with others. This question had three response categories coded as 1 = “my relationship is better than others are,” 2 = “my relationship is worse than others are,” and 3 = “my relationship is about the same (no better or worse) as others.” Both scaled questions had follow-up items in which we asked women to explain their numerical responses. Family/Friends with Same Experience. We also inquired as to how many close friends and family members of the participant had a similar experience with visiting a romantic partner in prison. Possible responses range from “none” to “many” on a four-point scale. Comparison Level for Alternatives (CLalt ). In order to measure women’s alternatives, we included the following question: “How difficult would it be for you to start a new relationship if this one ended?” Responses varied from “very easy” (1) to “very difficult” (7). We asked women to explain their responses in an open-ended format. RESULTS Descriptive Statistics Women visitors ranged from 18 to 71 years of age; the average was 32 (SD = 10.4) (see Table 11.1). The racial/ethnic distribution consisted of 40% African American/Black, 33% European American/White, 21.6% Latina/ Hispanic, and 6% other ethnicities. Close to one-third (30.1%) of the women were high school graduates, another quarter (24.1%) dropped out of school, and a small number reported college degrees (8.3%). About half of the sample (48.9%) consisted of women who were married to the inmate they visited. Another 27.1% were engaged to the inmate, and 16% considered

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11. RELATIONSHIPS WITH INCARCERATED MEN TABLE 11.1

Descriptive Statistics Variable

Mean

Std Deviation

Love Closeness Arguing Monthly cost of visiting Children (1 = yes) Quality of relationship compared to others Relationship meets expectations Family/friends with same experience Age White Married Yearly income (in thousands) Difficulty of starting new relationship

6.61 5.72 5.06 376.29 0.79 2.37 4.50 2.35 32.34 0.30 0.51 2.17 5.79

0.98 1.72 2.23 243.88 0.41 0.75 2.02 1.09 10.38 0.46 0.50 1.24 2.07

themselves the “girlfriend.” The large majority of women visitors reported having children (79%). The visitor population was primarily poor and many received public assistance. Two-thirds of visitors said they made $20,000 per year or less. Many women reported receiving Medi-Cal (54.1%), food stamps (40.6%), and welfare checks (34%). Women spent an average of about $376 per month on visiting, including expenses such as transportation, food, childcare, money put on their partner’s accounts, and telephone calls.

Satisfaction

Level of Satisfaction. How satisfied were women with their relationships with their incarcerated husband or boyfriend? They were typically quite satisfied, as can be seen in Figure 11.1. Approximately one-third of the women in the sample reported being “completely” satisfied with their current relationship, and that is the modal response category. One-quarter were “somewhat satisfied.” That is not to say that every woman here claimed relationship satisfaction. There were dissatisfied respondents, but they were in the distinct minority. About 16% of the women reported being “very unsatisfied” with their prison inmate relationship. Determinants of Satisfaction: Multivariate Analyses. Next we investigated the determinants of satisfaction in an OLS regression analysis. As can be seen in Table 11.2, our findings provide some support for the hypotheses that relationship rewards and costs, as well as self-referential comparisons with

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Percent

30%

20%

10%

16%

2%

3%

25%

12%

8%

34%

0% 1 2 Very unsatisfied

3 4 5 Somewhat satisfied

6 7 Completely satisfied

Relationship satisfaction

Figure 11.1 Degree of Satisfaction with Inmate Relationship

other relationships and expectations, are associated with women’s reports of relationship satisfaction. About half the variance in satisfaction (R 2 = 0.52) was accounted for by the independent variables.1 One of the reward variables, love, was statistically significant in the model and, as expected, the more women felt love for their partner, then the more satisfied they were with their relationship. The measure of closeness, however, did not have an effect that reached statistical significance. Two of the relationship costs displayed significant effects in the expected direction. Having children and arguing with one’s partner were both associated significantly with lower levels of relationship satisfaction among our participants.2 Yet the monthly cost of visiting did not have a significant effect in the model. The effects for two comparison measures, one that assesses the historical context of previous relationship experiences and another that compares the

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Unstandardized Regression Coefficients for Model of Relationship Satisfaction Independent Variables Relationship Rewards Love Closeness Relationship Costs Arguing Monthly cost of visiting Children (1=yes) Comparison Level Quality of relationship compared to others Relationship meets expectations Family/friends with same experience Control Variables Age Married White Yearly income (in thousands)

0.424* (0.177) 0.000 (0.091) –0.318*** (0.079) 0.000 (0.001) –0.945* (0.390) 0.537** (0.199) 0.245** (0.087) –0.057 (0.157) 0.022 (0.018) 0.393 (0.321) 0.097 (0.329) –0.196 (0.144)

Note: Standard Errors in parentheses; N = 119; R = 0.548; Adjusted R 2 = 0.497; Durbin Watson = 1.852 *p < 0.05, **p < 0.01 ***p < 0.001

quality of a woman’s relationship with that of others, were also significant, and in the predicted direction (see Table 11.2). That is, when women compared their relationship favorably with others, and the more a woman’s expectations about her relationships were met, the more satisfied she felt. The remaining measure, however, family/friends with same experience, did not have an effect that reached statistical significance in the model. In addition, the inclusion of control measures did little to alter the findings, and their effects did not reach statistical significance.3 Next we turn to an analysis of the women’s open-ended questionnaire and interview comments in order to provide more in-depth information relevant to our hypotheses. Do the qualitative responses tend to support or

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contradict our original expectations? Can they help to explain why certain factors, such as the monthly cost of visiting, fail to have significant effects in our model of satisfaction?

Qualitative Responses. Women’s verbal responses echo the finding in our regression model (see Table 11.2) that feelings of love toward a husband or boyfriend influence relationship satisfaction. When asked to assess the degree to which they felt love for their partners, for example, women often used the term “soul mate” in their response to highlight the deep emotional connection they felt toward this man. In another case, a 42-year-old white mother with two children felt that there was a spiritual component to the love she and her partner had for each other. She summed up the feelings of many women by saying, “God gave us to each other/We are soul mates. This time [in prison] is a ‘wake up’ call.” Arguing with a partner had a significant negative effect in the model, as noted earlier. In comments about arguments, many women noted that the incarceration, itself, broke a cycle of arguing on the “outside.” The decrease in arguing occurred for a number of reasons. One woman responded: “On the outside he worked a lot. He is bipolar, so he goes ‘off’ without his pills . . . He is medicated inside which cuts down on the arguments.” Others cited the elimination of drinking and drugs, or the loss of contact with troublemaking friends on the outside, as important reasons for less arguing. Arguing when it did occur, however, had costly effects on satisfaction. In addition, the qualitative results help to explain why women with children are reporting, on average, lower levels of satisfaction with their relationships compared to their childless counterparts. One 42-year-old African American mother with two kids, who worked a minimum wage job as a survey marketer, commented on the impact of incarceration on her children by saying, “They are mad at him for getting into trouble . . . they miss him. They don’t know nothing but prison. They play ‘prison.’” Over and over, during the survey interviews and in casual conversations, mothers recounted stories of conflict and stress associated with the incarceration of the fathers of their children. Often, women said that their children were simply not able to comprehend what was happening. As one young Latina mother who worked full time as a waitress said: “They were very attached to him and don’t understand why he is not there. Their hearts are broken over this; it’s very stressful . . . I have to say they are devastated.” Women’s most frequently mentioned worry about their lives concerned money problems (e.g., “bills, bills, bills”). As can be seen in Table 11.2, however, the financial cost of visiting did not influence significantly how satisfied a woman was with her relationship with an incarcerated partner. There are several possible explanations for this “non-finding,” one of which

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concerns the view that hardship and sacrifice on a woman’s part is called for in order to alleviate the harshness of the situation facing an incarcerated loved one. Women sometimes noted that their partners’ need for them far outweighed the financial cost of visiting. One woman rationalized the expense this way: “He really needs me right now . . . I am the only family he has . . . I can’t abandon him.” Another explanation concerns the dire financial situation faced by those in our sample. Many of our participants were on welfare or were employed in low-paying jobs. Having financial difficulties predated the incarceration of their partners and represents a ubiquitous challenge, regardless of whether or not their mates are imprisoned. An additional explanation for the lack of an effect of the measure of monthly visiting costs on satisfaction may be that some women tend to redirect blame for a partner’s incarceration from him to the criminal justice system. In such a situation, the perceived unfairness of the situation justifies the monetary expenditure on the woman’s part. Several women commented that their husband or partner was either falsely imprisoned or that the punishment far exceeded the crime. A 33-year-old Latina mother of three said, “This woke me up to the games the system plays. I saw with my own eyes how unfair the system is.” Next, we see that women’s open-ended responses regarding their relationship expectations help confirm the additional finding in the regression analyses that women’s expectations were linked significantly to their relationship satisfaction. Women reported expectations that are commensurate with the difficult situation they face in attempting to maintain a close connection with an imprisoned mate. An analysis of comments women make about their relationship expectations also adds a twist not denoted in the quantitative model. Many women appear to have revised, or altered over time, their expectations to fit the circumstances of incarceration. A 41-year-old college educated Asian wife and mother of one child, for example, reported that her expectations had been met “completely.” But she qualified this response by pointing to limitations inherent in visiting an inmate, and she noted that her expectations for her relationship were “within its limitations” and “for what it is.” In another instance, a 21-year-old African American woman employed as a store manager reported: “It just isn’t what I thought when I was growing up; I had the whole white picket fence fantasy but reality is not like that.” An African American cosmetologist and mother of four said: “My expectations have changed; I am less idealistic; taken off my rose-colored glasses; life is harder than you think when you are young.”

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Commitment

Level of Commitment. How committed are women to maintaining a relationship with their incarcerated husbands or boyfriends? Are there many women in our sample who intend to continue to invest heavily in what appear to be relatively costly liaisons? Referring to the illustration at the beginning, is it likely that Ebony aims to continue to visit Darnell regularly, with her three young children in tow? We find that most women in our sample expected to maintain their prison inmate relationship. In fact, women reported extremely elevated levels of commitment, as shown in Figure 11.2. Most of our participants (85.3%) were “completely” committed to their offender partner. Only a small proportion of participants (1%) reported being “not at all” committed. In the next

Percent

75%

50%

25%

1%

1%

2%

5%

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4%

85%

1 Not at all

2

3

4 Somewhat

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0%

Relationship commitment

Figure 11.2 Degree of Commitment to Inmate Relationship

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analysis we investigate the extent to which we can account for the limited amount of variance in commitment by our explanatory variables.

Determinants of Commitment: Multivariate Analyses. We examined women’s commitment to their relationship as a function of the variables used in the previous model (see Table 11.3) and we included a measure of alternatives, CLalt.4 Four variables attained statistical significance and the overall model accounted for approximately 56% of the variance (R 2 = 0.56).5 TABLE 11.3

Unstandardized Regression Coefficients for Model of Relationship Commitment Independent Variables Relationship Rewards Love Closeness Relationship Costs Arguing Monthly Cost of Visiting Children (1 = yes) Comparison Level Quality of relationship compared to others Relationship meets expectations Family/friends with same experience Comparison Level for Alternatives Difficulty of starting new relationship Control Variables Age Married White Yearly income (in thousands) Note : Standard Errors in parentheses; N = 119, R 2 = 0.564; Adjusted R 2 = 0.510; Durbin Watson = 1.646. *p ≤ 0.05, **p ≤ 0.01 ***p ≤ 0.001

0.648*** (0.095) 0.102* (0.046) 0.050 (0.041) 0.000 (0.000) 0.094 (0.198) 0.200* (0.101) 0.033 (0.045) 0.071 (0.080) 0.088* (0.040) 0.011 (0.009) –0.080 (0.164) 0.112 (0.170) 0.057 (0.074)

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Women who loved their partners, felt close to them, and who believed that their relationship compared favorably with that of others were more committed. In addition, the measure of alternatives, CL alt, had the expected, significant effect; the more women believed that they had relatively few viable alternatives to their relationship, then the more committed they were to their existing relationship.6

Qualitative Comments and Observations. An examination of the openended questions provides further support for several of our hypotheses regarding determinants of commitment. In response to a question that asks “Why do you think it would be difficult (or easy) to start a new relationship?” one African American woman in her early forties almost eerily reflected the social exchange Investment Model (e.g., Rusbult, Drigotas, & Verette, 1994) by stating, “I just can’t try (another relationship) again . . . I have put four years into this and I’m really invested.” Comments that point to investments and a lack of alternatives as reasons for commitment to an unsatisfactory relationship were common. For example, a Latina woman, divorced with two small children, stated: “It’s hard enough out there in the real world and men are dogs. I would have to go through getting to know someone and figure out what they are all about again . . . I’ve put too much energy into this to give it up now.” Yet another young African American woman stated, “I’ve already put so much time and energy into this, it has to work out.” In addition, several women cited their age as a factor preventing them from pursuing a new relationship. As one woman in her early forties said, “I’m getting older and have kids. We share too many memories and I’ve put too much into this.” When women are asked to talk about the possible difficulties associated with starting a new relationship, they frequently mentioned children. Children are an investment, in other words, that tie women to their incarcerated mates. Although, as previously discussed, these analyses suggest that having children may decrease a woman’s level of satisfaction in a relationship, the presence of children in the family is a frequent topic when women talk about relationship rewards and commitment. The following quotes illustrate how children are sometimes an investment that may entrap women in less than satisfactory relationships. When asked why she is committed to her partner, an 18-year-old African American woman replied: “Because of the time we have spent together and our son is the most important.” A white woman, 40 years old, responded: “Because of our child together.” Children are clearly an important part of the equation in many marriages and long-term romantic relationships, and many women who are involved with incarcerated men are no different from those who stay with otherwise undesirable mates “for the sake of the children.”

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Unexpected Benefits. Some women gave explanations for their satisfaction and commitment in their qualitative comments that uncovered unanticipated rewards associated with their situations. For example, the same woman who reported that her two young children “play prison” also said that she had married their father after his incarceration, hoping to become eligible for family (conjugal) visits. When discussing satisfaction she said, “I’m more satisfied now; being married has settled him down.” Another woman, 42 years old with no children visiting her husband, commented, “We are committed. All of the talking inside has given us ‘quality time.’” Improvement in the content of interactions with their partners, thus, constituted one major benefit of their current relationship situation for these women and for others. Some participants referred to the protective advantages in their neighborhood of having an association with an incarcerated mate. According to one woman, “People do not mess with you when your husband is in prison.” In other words, having such a partner acts as a deterrent threat to those who might harm or take advantage of a woman or her children in a vulnerable situation. A number of women spoke of improvements in their partners’ behavior associated with incarceration. One unemployed woman with three children reported “He was a heavy drinker; drugs and alcohol interfered. He was busted for dealing. It is getting better now.” For this woman and others, incarceration provided a chance for their husbands to clean up and “get his priorities straightened out.” In a particularly poignant comment, one of the volunteers at the visitor’s center noted: “Honey, seems like prison is just rehab for poor Black folks who can’t afford no Betty Ford clinic.” So, for some, satisfaction and commitment increase as a result of incarceration because many distractions and temptations facing an offender are removed and replaced with short, highly intense visits that allow the pair to focus more deeply on their relationship. Display of Commitment. Commitment is not simply an internal cognition, according to several scholars. Rather, partners construct commitment together through their interactions as a couple, and they communicate commitment to one another directly and, more commonly, indirectly (Knapp & Taylor, 1994). Couples use verbal and nonverbal behavioral displays to establish, maintain, and change a shared understanding of commitment to their relationship (Ballard-Reisch & Weigel, 1999). These displays include several categories of behavior, such as expressing affection, maintaining support, maintaining integrity, and creating a relational future, many of which relate significantly to relationship permanence and/or satisfaction and commitment (Weigel & Ballard-Reisch, 2002).

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Our ethnographic observations provide information regarding the display and practice of relationship commitment in this particular setting. Here we see extensive evidence that commitment, or an intention to remain with a partner, is not simply an internal state of mind on the part of an individual visitor, as noted above. Commitment tends to be advertised publicly, as well as confirmed privately, in order to affirm a relationship. Public display represents an important and dramaturgical technique, such as the use of “we” and “our” in conversation, which defines two individuals as a couple (Kelley, 1983). For example, in many observations and conversations with women visitors, they referred to their mates as “my man,” indicating personal ownership that extended above and beyond friendship. In the prison environment overt public displays of affection during visits are prohibited by prison rules, although our observations inside the prison show that women often subvert the rules and have more intimate contact than technically allowed. At times, on our visits inside, women could be seen embracing their partners or sitting on their laps. Women also reported occasional, semi-covert sexual encounters with their mates in public visiting rooms, and some wore dresses with tears in the back in order to facilitate such encounters. In these instances there seemed to be a tacit and unspoken agreement among guards, inmates, and visitors to relax or even ignore the rules. Such displays of affection represent one avenue by which couples in this setting behave in ways that affirm to themselves, as well as to others, the level of commitment in their relationship.

DISCUSSION Most of the women in our study are highly satisfied, and heavily committed to remaining in their relationship with an incarcerated man. They report intense feelings of love for their husbands or boyfriends and view them as their “soul mate.” Some describe the incarceration as a positive experience for their relationship, or in their words, “a wake-up call.” The prison environment enhances the closeness of the couple. In many cases incarceration has the added benefits of curtailing drug and alcohol use and decreasing arguments. Furthermore, a number of these women have invested a great deal into their relationships and have expectations that reflect their past experiences of hardship. Finally, they tend to report few alternatives to their current relationships, due to their age, the presence of children, and a lack of availability of potential partners in their communities.

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Social Exchange Results from our analyses provide support for many of the premises of social exchange theory (e.g., Emerson, 1972a; Thibaut & Kelley, 1959). As expected, women appear to evaluate their relationship satisfaction in the context of comparisons, expectations, and the evaluations of rewards and costs. Individuals who believe that their relationship is better than that of others, and those who feel that the relationship has met their expectations, express greater satisfaction. The findings regarding commitment also provide some support for an exchange perspective on close relationships. The relationship rewards of love and closeness to a partner are associated with higher levels of commitment, as predicted, and women who compare their relationships favorably with respect to those of others are relatively highly committed. In addition, comparison level for alternatives relates significantly to commitment. Women who perceive that they have relatively few alternatives to the current relationship report higher levels of commitment. On the other hand, some variables fail to have significant effects in our statistical models. The variable measuring the monthly cost of visiting, for example, did not have an effect that reached statistical significance in either the model of satisfaction or that of commitment. The variable measuring the presence of children did not have a significant coefficient in the commitment model. One plausible explanation for these insignificant effects in our models is that in many instances, children and financial expenditures represent negative relationship costs, and at the same time, they denote positive investments. Both perspectives appear in the qualitative data. Women complain vociferously about the difficulties of juggling both children and financial resources in order to visit their mates. At the same time, they frequently cite children and money as reasons for staying in a relationship. Certainly the qualitative data make it clear that children and financial difficulties remain salient issues that shape perceptions of relationship quality and stability. Further research is needed to clarify the connections between measures of relationship quality and the costs and/or investments of offspring and finances about which women speak so eloquently in their open-ended comments.

The Public Face of Commitment Our ethnographic observations also contribute to an understanding of the factors that shape women’s commitment. They underscore the point that commitment develops out of interaction, and that couples communicate it

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to one another using assorted verbal and nonverbal behaviors (Knapp & Taylor, 1994; Weigel & Ballard-Reisch, 2002). In addition, our findings emphasize the role of an audience in confirming a couple’s intention to remain in a relationship. Because of the prison setting, the expression of affection communicates one’s commitment to a partner and, at the same time, publicly affirms it. The environment provides a context within which an intention to stay involved deepens. Furthermore, in any long-term relationship, habits become a way of life and may make one dedicated no matter how awful the relationship (Rosenblatt, 1977). The more a couple has an interlocking pattern of behavior, the more committed the two spouses will be to their marriage (Berger & Luckmann, 1990; Hinde, 1979). In the case of prison visitors, the complicated and arduous rituals that surround visiting may increase the intention to remain in a relationship.

Limitations One of the main weaknesses of our study entails the selectivity of our sample. Women who immediately broke up with their partner following his arrest or incarceration are not included here. Our sample consists largely of relatively highly dedicated women, who, for whatever reason, choose to maintain their relationships following the imprisonment of their husbands or partners. A random sample of women involved with incarcerated men would undoubtedly yield a good deal more variance in our measures. The selectivity of our sample certainly remains one likely explanation for the “nonfindings” in our quantitative analyses. For example, women who encountered particularly negative consequences for their children associated with the incarceration of their partners presumably stopped visiting and are not included in our sample. Furthermore, our quantitative analysis relies on cross-sectional, rather than longitudinal, data, raising questions of causal order among our measures. Given that our quantitative variables are measured at one time point, it remains possible that some of our covariates, such as love, are outcomes, rather than predictors, of satisfaction and commitment. Not all our findings are consistent with the tenets of social exchange. For instance, certain individuals in our study appear to ignore the financial burden entailed by continuing to visit their mate in prison, or they do not subjectively identify it as a significant “cost.” Their relationship satisfaction and commitment may be less sensitive to assessments of relationship costs and benefits than we might expect. Some individuals in our sample, thus, may represent those outliers for whom the equations of social exchange fail to apply readily, or at least without a good deal of effort. Of course, there could be unmeasured rewards and costs that make their financial investment

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worthwhile. For example, infidelity and jealousy are traditional elements of relationship dissatisfaction, but probably have different meanings in the context of a prisoner–visitor relationship. A woman involved with a man behind bars faces the risk that her partner will engage physically in a samesex, but not cross-sex, encounter. The relative “absence” of heterosexual infidelity and jealousy, therefore, could decrease certain relationship costs for these women.

Implications Our results have implications for the specification of concepts within the social exchange perspective. For example, note that some of the measures in our model, such as children, do not fit neatly into any one social exchange concept. Do children represent a relationship reward, cost, investment, or even a proxy for the comparison level for alternatives? Children constitute a rewarding dimension of a partnership with a mate, yet there are significant costs associated with raising children in the best of circumstances. Having children with a husband or partner also represents a significant investment in a particular relationship, in that the time, energy, money, and emotions spent raising the progeny of a mate cannot be recovered. Moreover, the presence of children constrains women’s access to alternative relationships, by rendering them less attractive to a man who does not want to raise another man’s offspring, and by limiting their availability to engage in situations in which they are likely to meet potential partners. Moreover, Levinger (1965, 1976) theorizes that relationship stability is, in part, a function of barrier forces inside of a marriage, where barriers refer to the forces within a relationship that prevent its dissolution. From this perspective, dependent children could constitute a barrier force. Thus, the experience of having children encapsulates aspects of several theoretical concepts, and it remains difficult to use the variable as a proxy for only one of them. Our findings also have practical implications. The criminal justice system historically views offenders as individuals and ignores the concerns of spouses and families. In our investigation we found very few resources to address the needs of the spouses and family members of prisoners. Women and children attempting to visit an incarcerated man faced numerous barriers and delays. Moreover, the visitor’s center at the prison was closed abruptly during the course of our study, due to contract disputes and bureaucratic delays. The closing of the center compounded the difficulties encountered by women attempting to preserve contact with their husbands and boyfriends. Yet, as discussed earlier, maintaining and strengthening an inmate’s connection to a spouse, as well as to children, can improve an inmate’s behavior and, upon release, reduce the likelihood of reoffending (e.g., Hirschi 1969; Laub &

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Sampson, 1993). Offenders need to be viewed as individuals located within a family system, a family to which they may try to return upon release. Resources directed at facilitating the preservation of an inmate’s bonds with a spouse and family are apt to lower recidivism. We return finally to a question posed earlier: Are women involved with incarcerated felons themselves “prisoners of love”? The simple answer is: “Yes, at least to some degree.” Here we see that feelings of love consistently, and significantly, relate to perceptions of both satisfaction and commitment. In addition, a large majority of women interviewed said they loved their partner “completely,” and they justified the emotional and monetary costs of visiting by claiming romantic love as the primary motivation to remain in a less than satisfactory connection. These women viewed the incarceration as a short temporary bump in the overall trajectory of their relationship. Even women whose husbands or boyfriends had been in prison more than five times often cited love as the primary reason for staying. Nearly half of the women who said they were completely committed to their relationship reported, “he is my soul mate.” Yet it is also the case that women who visit men in prison are not so unlike those in relationships where incarceration is not a factor. Women who visit incarcerated men are no more “victims” of love than women from any walk of life who find themselves entangled in an intimate relationship for reasons that extend beyond being “in love.” They have the same dreams and desires for emotional and financial security as do women who have never experienced the wrong side of the justice system. They want loving husbands and fathers for their children. However, many of the women we spent time with were well aware that, in their communities, finding a man who had never had trouble with the law, unemployment, or drugs was difficult. The individuals interviewed here often were born and raised in urban poverty and did not have the same “world view” about what makes a man an eligible partner as do women from middle-class communities. The reasons for this are structural, having more to do with historical legacies of racial discrimination, injustice, and economic deprivation than with any personal flaws about choosing a good mate. Women attempt to evaluate their opportunity structure realistically, both for themselves in finding a suitable mate, and for their partners, in terms of understanding that the men they meet have extremely limited opportunities for rewarding employment and success outside the criminal justice system. As noted by several studies, people’s field of available partners, their proximity to possible partners, and their sociocultural environment constrain and shape the process of mate selection (Fossett & Kiecolt, 1993; Qian, Lichter, & Mellot, 2005; Sprecher, Sullivan, & Hatfield, 1994). The story herein also represents a testimony to the power of the unequal system of gender in our culture (e.g., Ridgeway & Correll, 2004; Risman,

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2004). The men these women visit provide them with essential rewards not offered elsewhere. In particular, they impart feelings of worth and validation of an identity as a female in a culture that constantly poses the question, “What is a woman without a man?” We see here the hardships these women will endure for the sake of the love, esteem, and partnership of a male. The realities of gender inequality may be obscured when investigating middleclass and professional individuals with their educational degrees and rewarding occupations. Here they emerge in stark relief. In conclusion, the relationship dynamics for women whose partners are imprisoned are not entirely dissimilar from those of many others. Traditional, sociological theories do not apply seamlessly past the prison gate, yet neither do they stop completely. Several of the same factors previously documented as influencing satisfaction and commitment in more mainstream relationships also affect relations with those incarcerated, such as love, closeness, expectations, and alternatives. We see here that many of the women in our study, similar to individuals in other costly liaisons, may be “captives” of love. Nonetheless, they are captives as well of a stratified and constrained social system that fails to provide them with the opportunities available to others on the basis of their privileged gender, race, and class.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The authors would like to thank Bill McCarthy, Scott Gartner, Carmen Fortes, and faculty at Illinois State University for their helpful comments on this work.

NOTES 1 We also investigated the influence of social network members on relationship satisfaction. None of the network measures, such as perceived support from family and friends, had a significant effect in the regression analyses when other variables were included. The qualitative data suggest that women’s network support was very complex and difficult to measure, in part because a number of women did not tell their networks about their relationship, or had not met members of their partner’s network. 2 According to diagnostic tests, our model does not violate various basic OLS assumptions, such as linearity, normality, and constant variance. The residual analyses indicate further that several alternative transformations of the dependent and independent variables did not improve the fit beyond that of the model in Table 11.2. Variance Inflation Factors showed no evidence of multicollinearity among the independent variables. 3 We also used ordinal logistic regression to estimate the same model of satisfaction as shown in Table 11.2. We reach the same conclusions with the ordinal regression as those presented here in the OLS analysis. Note that when an ordinal dependent

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variable has a large number of categories (five or more), and when the continuity assumption for the dependent variable does not result in distortions, then leastsquares regression represents a reasonable estimation strategy (Torra, DomingoFerrer, Mateo-Sanz, & Ng, 2006). In our case, we do indeed have a dependent measure with a large number of categories (seven categories), and our model does not violate the continuity assumption for the dependent variable. 4 In analyses not shown here, we examined the effect of other variables on satisfaction, none of which had a significant effect and which were subsequently dropped. One of these measures was the expected length of sentence for the incarcerated man that the women were visiting. Length of sentence represents a potentially important measure of anticipated relationship costs and investments. The costs and investments associated with maintaining a relationship with a prison inmate are likely to grow proportionally as the expected time spent in prison by their partner increases. Nevertheless, our measure of sentence length was not strong; it was based on the woman’s estimate, and there was a good deal of missing data. None of the various coding schemes (e.g., “life sentence” vs. “non-life sentence”) resulted in a significant effect of the variable in the model. 5 According to OLS diagnostics, our model does not violate the standard assumptions. 6 Once again we analyzed the data with an ordinal regression and the results were identical, with one small discrepancy. The variable, Quality of Relationship as it is Compared to Others, no longer has an effect that reaches statistical significance at conventional levels.

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Comfort, M. L. (2003). In the tube at San Quentin: The “secondary prisonization” of women visiting inmates. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 32, 77–107. Comfort, M. L., Grinstead, O., McCartney, K., Bourgois, P., & Knight, K. (2005). “You can’t do nothing in this damn place”: Sex and intimacy among couples with an incarcerated male partner. Journal of Sex Research, 42, 3–12. Condry, R. (2007). Families shamed: The consequences of crime for relatives of serious offenders. Portland, OR: Willan. Cook, K. S., & Emerson, R. M. (1987). Social exchange theory. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage. Emerson, R. M. (1972a). Exchange theory, Part I: A psychological basis for social exchange. In J. Berger, J. M. Zelditch, & B. Anderson (Eds.), Sociological theories in progress (Vol. 2, pp. 38–57). Boston: Houghton-Mifflin. Emerson, R. M. (1972b). Exchange theory, Part II: Exchange rules and networks. In J. Berger, J. M. Zelditch, & B. Anderson (Eds.), Sociological theories in progress, (Vol. 2, pp. 58–87) Boston: Houghton-Mifflin. Felmlee, D., & Sprecher, S. (2000). Close relationships and social psychology: Intersections and future paths. Social Psychology Quarterly, 63, 365–376. Festinger, L. (1954). A theory of social comparison processes. Human Relations, 7, 117–140. Fosset, M. A., & Kiecolt, K. J. (1993). Mate availability and family structure among African Americans in U.S. metropolitan areas. Journal of Marriage and Family, 55, 288–302. Gendreau, P., Goggin, C. E., & Law, M. A. (1997). Predicting prison misconducts. Criminal Justice and Behavior, 24, 414–431. Giordano, P. C., Schroeder, R. D., & Cernkovich, S. A. (2007). Emotions and crime over the life course: A neo-Meadian perspective on criminal continuity and change. American Journal of Sociology, 6, 1603–1661. Gottfredson, M. R., & Hirschi, T. (1990). A general theory of crime. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Hinde, R. A. (1979). Towards understanding relationships. New York: Academic Press. Hirschi, T. (1969). Causes of delinquency. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Homans, G. C. (1974). Social behavior; its elementary forms. New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich. Impett, E. A., Beals, K. P., & Peplau. L. A. (2001). Testing the investment model of relationship commitment and stability in a longitudinal study of married couples. Current Psychology, 20, 312–326. Kelley, H. H. (1983). The situational origins of human tendencies: A further reason for the formal analysis of structures. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 9, 8–30. Kelley, H. H., & Thibaut, J. W. (1978). Interpersonal relations: A theory of interdependence. New York: Wiley. Knapp, M. L., & Taylor, E. H. (1994). Commitment and its communication in romantic relationships. In A. L. Weber & J. H. Harvey (Eds.), Perspectives on close relationships (pp. 153–175). Boston: Allyn & Bacon. Kurdek, L. A. (1991). Correlates of relationship satisfaction in cohabiting gay and lesbian couples: Integration of contextual, investment, and problem-solving models. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 61, 910–922. Kurdek, L. A. (2000). Attractions and constraints as determinants of relationship commitment: Longitudinal evidence from gay, lesbian, and heterosexual couples. Personal Relationships, 7, 245–262. Laub, J. H., Nagin, D. S., & Sampson, R. J. (1998). Trajectories of change in criminal offending: Good marriages and the desistance process. American Sociological Review, 63, 225–238.

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Laub, J. H., & Sampson, R. J. (1993). Turning-points in the life-course: Why change matters to the study of crime. Criminology, 31, 301–325. Le, B., & Agnew, C. R. (2003). Commitment and its theorized determinants: A metaanalysis of the Investment Model. Personal Relationships, 10, 37–57. Levinger, G. (1965). Marital cohesiveness and dissolution: An integrative review. Journal of Marriage and Family, 27, 19–28. Levinger, G. (1976). A social psychological perspective on marital dissolution. Journal of Social Issues, 32, 21–47. Levinger, G. (1999). Duty toward whom? Reconsidering attractions and barriers as determinants of commitment in a relationship. In W. H. Jones & J. M. Adams (Eds.), Handbook of interpersonal commitment and relationship stability (pp. 37–53). New York: Plenum. McCarthy, B., & Casey, T. (2008). Love, sex and crime: Adolescent romantic relationships and offending. American Sociological Review, 73, 944–969. Molm, L. D., Quist, T. M., & Wiseley, P. A. (1994). Imbalanced structures, unfair strategies: Power and justice in social-exchange. American Sociological Review, 59, 98–121. Orbuch, T. L., & Brown, E. (2006). Divorce in the context of being African American. In M. A. Fine & J. H. Harvey (Eds.), Handbook of divorce and relationship dissolution (pp. 481–498). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Orbuch, T. L., Veroff, J., Hassan, H., & Horrocks, J. (2002) Who will divorce: A 14-year longitudinal study of black couples and white couples. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 19, 179–202. Qian, Z., Lichter, D., & Mellot, L. M. (2005). Out-of-wedlock childbearing, marital prospects and mate selection. Social Forces, 84, 473–491. Ridgeway, C. L., & Correll, S. J. (2004). Unpacking the gender system: A theoretical perspective on gender beliefs and social relations. Gender & Society, 18, 510–531. Risman, B. J. (2004). Gender as a social structure: Theory wrestling with activism. Gender & Society, 18, 429–450. Rosenblatt, P. C. (1977). Needed research on commitment in marriage. In G. Levinger & H. L. Raush (Eds.), Close relationships: Perspectives on the meaning of intimacy (pp. 189–200). Amherst, MA: University of Massachusetts Press. Rusbult, C. E. (1980a). Commitment and satisfaction in romantic associations: A test of the investment model. Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 16, 172–186. Rusbult, C. E. (1980b). Satisfaction and commitment in friendships. Representative Research in Social Psychology, 11, 96–105. Rusbult, C. E., Drigotas, S. M., & Verette, J. (1994). The investment model: An interdependence analysis of commitment processes and relationship maintenance phenomena. In D. Canary & L. Stafford (Eds.), Communication and relational maintenance (pp. 115–139). New York: Academic. Rusbult, C. E., Johnson, D. J., & Morrow, G. D. (1986). Predicting satisfaction and commitment in adult romantic involvements: An assessment of the generalizability of the investment model. Social Psychology Quarterly, 49, 81–89. Rusbult, C. E., & Martz, J. M. (1995). Remaining in an abusive relationship: An investment model analysis of nonvoluntary dependence. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 21, 558–571. Rusbult, C. E., Martz, J. M., & Agnew, C. R. (1998). The investment model scale: Measuring commitment level, satisfaction level, quality of alternatives, and investment size. Personal Relationships, 5, 357–391. Schafer, N. E. (1991). Prison visiting policies and practices. International Journal of Offender Therapy and Comparative Criminology, 35, 263–275.

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Schafer, N. E. (1994). Exploring the link between visits and parole success: A survey of prison visitors. International Journal of Offender Therapy and Comparative Criminology, 38, 17–32. Spanier, G. B., & Glick, P. C. (1980). Mate selection differentials between whites and blacks in the United States. Social Forces, 58, 707–725. Sprecher, S., Sullivan, Q., & Hatfield, E. (1994). Mate selection preferences: Gender differences examined in a national sample. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 66, 1074–1080. Thibault, J. W., & Kelley, H. H. (1959). The social psychology of groups. New York: Wiley. Torra, V., Domingo-Ferrer, J., Mateo-Sanz, J. M., & Ng, M. (2006). Regression for ordinal variables without underlying continuous variables. Information Sciences, 176, 465–474. Twenge, J. M., Campbell, W. K., & Foster, C. A. (2003). Parenthood and marital satisfaction: A meta-analytic review. Journal of Marriage and the Family, 65, 574–583. Warr, M. (1998). Life-course transitions and desistance from crime. Criminology, 36, 183–216. Weigel, D. J., & Ballard-Reisch, D. S. (2002). Investigating the behavioral predictors of relational commitment. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 19, 403–423. Wooldredge, J. D. (1991). Identifying possible sources of inmate crowding in U.S. jails. Journal of Quantitative Criminology, 7, 373–386.

12

The Meaning of Girls’ Social Aggression: Nasty or Mastery? Erin K. Willer and William R. Cupach

Meanness among girls recently has gained extensive media attention on talk shows, in news stories, and in theatres. For example, the movie Mean Girls (Messik, Michaels, Fey, & Waters, 2004) provides a satirical depiction of this seemingly dark behavior. The movie opens as protagonist Cady begins her first day at public high school. Previously, Cady was home schooled in Africa by her zoologist parents and is therefore unaware of the social rules she is expected to follow. She is befriended by outcasts Janis and Damian who mentor her about different cliques, including groups such as the “varsity jocks,” “desperate wannabes,” “over-sexed band geeks,” “girls who eat their feelings,” “cool Asians,” and the most popular of all groups of girls, the “Plastics.” Included in this exclusive group of malicious yet admired girls are queen bee, Regina, and her worker bees, airhead Karen and instigator Gretchen. To Cady’s surprise the Plastics invite her to be a member of their elite group and, persuaded by her friends, she agrees to scheme against the ringleader. The plan to overthrow Regina includes helping her to gain weight unknowingly, to lose her high-status boyfriend, and turning her friends against her. Given the success of the plot against Regina, Cady finds herself as the new queen bee; however, during the climax of the film the plan unravels and results in chaos, including verbal and physical fighting among the various female cliques. As a result of this turmoil, the principal and teachers facilitate an intervention encouraging the girls to self-disclose about

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a time when they gossiped and spread rumors about other girls before doing trust-falls into a crowd of their newly supportive peers. Although these initial attempts to foster reconciliation among the girls are not completely successful, the movie ends in social harmony among the cliques and the girls. We highlight the movie Mean Girls because it represents a widely familiar depiction of the phenomenon we examine in the current chapter, social aggression. For example, when we mention to our students and colleagues our interest in the topic, their response is often “Oh, like in the movie Mean Girls?!” The popularity of Mean Girls illustrates a clear fascination with the phenomenon as the movie serves as a source of entertainment and information about a socially significant and captivating topic. In some regards, the movie’s portrayal of social aggression, cliques, and group competition comports with empirical research on the subject. For example, some of the forms of social aggression that are perpetrated in the movie, such as making a “burn book” that includes hateful gossip and rumors about students and teachers, although outlandish, represent accurately the dark side of some girls’ experiences. In general, however, the movie reflects and reinforces social stereotypes about girls by presenting a caricatured representation of social aggression. Moreover, the Pollyanna-like depiction of the intervention at the end of the movie that leads to a utopian social climate fails to represent the complications associated with remediating social aggression among girls. Our purpose, therefore, is to reveal a more nuanced description by reviewing theoretical approaches and empirical research that should inform interventions aimed at addressing social aggression among girls. We begin by conceptualizing social aggression and providing a rationale for focusing on girls in particular. Next, we briefly review empirical evidence regarding the adverse consequences of social aggression. We then propose two theoretical frameworks that aid in understanding the motives that underlie girls’ social aggression. These frameworks reveal that social aggression is not an exclusively “dark” phenomenon; some aspects of social aggression are functional and adaptive. In the final section, we caution against prematurely implementing programs to rectify social aggression. We offer guidelines to ensure the utility of social aggression intervention efforts.

CONCEPTUALIZING AGGRESSION Owing to its myriad manifestations, aggression has been defined in numerous ways, and characterized by various labels, including teasing (Kowalski, 2007), peer harassment (Nishina & Juvonen, 2005), peer victimization (Coleman & Byrd, 2003), rejection (Asher & Coie, 1990), exclusion (Baumeister & DeWall, 2005), nondirect aggression (Richardson & Green, 1997), invisible

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aggression (Garandeau & Cillessen, 2006), communicative aggression (Dailey, Lee, & Spitzberg, 2007), psychological aggression (Hammock & O’Hearn, 2002), psychological abuse (O’Leary & Maiuro, 2004), ostracism (Williams, 2001), mobbing (Pikas, 1989), bullying (Pörhölä, Karhunen, & Rainivaara, 2006), and cyber-bullying (Kowalski, Limber, & Agatston, 2008). One common approach to conceptualizing aggressive behavior is to distinguish among three broad types: (1) physical; (2) verbal; and (3) social/relational/ indirect (e.g., Björkqvist, 1994; Hawker & Boulton, 2001; Underwood, 2003). Physical aggression includes behaviors such as shoving, slapping, punching, kicking, and hair-pulling (e.g., Tremblay et al., 2004). It also can include damaging or destroying a victim’s personal property. Verbal aggression entails insults, put-downs, ridicule, name-calling, malicious teasing, and explicit attacks on one’s appearance, competence, or affiliations (e.g., Kinney, 1994). The third type of aggression has been labeled by various authors as indirect aggression (e.g., Björkqvist, 1994; Vaillancourt, Miller, Fagbemi, Côté, & Tremblay, 2007), relational aggression (e.g., Crick & Grotpeter, 1995; Crick et al., 2001), or social aggression (e.g., Cairns, Cairns, Neckerman, Ferguson, & Gariepy, 1989; Galen & Underwood, 1997). These three labels refer to similar, largely overlapping sets of behaviors (Archer & Coyne, 2005; Björkqvist, 2001). Indirect aggression occurs when “the target person is attacked not physically or directly through verbal intimidation but in a circuitous way, through social manipulation” (Kaukiainen et al., 1999, p. 83). Such manipulation can take the form of social exclusion, snubs, gossiping, spreading vicious rumors, and getting others to shun the victim (Lagerspetz, Björkqvist, & Peltonen, 1988). Thus, the target of indirect aggression may be unaware of the identity of the perpetrator. Crick and Grotpeter (1995) employed the term relational aggression to designate “harming others through purposeful manipulation and damage of their peer relationships” (p. 711). Similar to indirect aggression, relational aggression occurs through such means as spreading false rumors about the victim, excluding the victim from one’s friendship network, ignoring the victim, and threatening to cut friendship ties with the victim. Galen and Underwood (1997) use the term social aggression, which they argue “is directed toward damaging another’s selfesteem, social status, or both, and may take direct forms such as verbal rejection, negative facial expressions or body movements, or more indirect forms such as slanderous rumors or social exclusion” (p. 589). Thus, “social aggression seems to consist of the behaviors included in indirect and relational aggression, plus non-verbal expressions that exclude or show contempt for others” (Underwood, Galen, & Paquette, 2001, p. 253). Such expressions would include turning away, rolling eyes, mocking or disdainful facial expressions, and threatening looks or gestures. We note that the three general types of aggression (i.e., physical, verbal, and social) are empirically correlated with one another (e.g., Card, Stucky,

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Sawalani, & Little, 2008; Hawker & Boulton, 2001), and that the conceptual boundaries between these forms of aggression can be fuzzy. For example, teasing and ridicule are often committed in a public context, and can simultaneously function to discredit the victim’s identity, damage the victim’s social relationships, and bolster the teaser’s social status. Similarly, “punching a classmate may hurt the victim physically, but it likely also harms that child’s social standing, friendships, and self-esteem” (Underwood, 2003, p. 29). Thus, while different manifestations of aggressive behavior are distinguishable in form, it is difficult to disambiguate their functions. As Underwood (2003) indicates, “any form of aggressive behavior usually hurts others in multiple ways and serves multiple goals” (p. 29). Perhaps the broadest and most common rubric employed to refer to aggression among peers is bullying (also known as peer victimization), which entails any of the forms of aggression noted earlier (i.e., physical, verbal, and/or social; Geffner, Loring, & Young, 2001; Swearer, Espelage, & Napolitano, 2009).1 Bullying is distinguished from the more specific forms of aggression in two ways. First, bullying involves repeated attempts over time to inflict injury. For a particular individual, fighting or social exclusion can occur as an isolated incident. It is only when multiple aggressive acts against a victim exhibit a temporal pattern that they are collectively regarded as bullying. Second, relationships between bullies and victims are generally characterized as asymmetrical with respect to power (e.g., Hoover & Oliver, 2008; Olweus, 1993); that is, the bully possesses power over the victim.2 Although any particular aggressive act might be construed as an attempt to exert or gain power, we contend that specific instances of social, verbal, or physical aggression can involve either a symmetrical or asymmetrical power relationship. In this chapter we focus specifically on peer social aggression for the following reasons.3 First, social aggression is more common among girls than is physical aggression (Card et al., 2008). Second, following Underwood (2003), we believe the label social aggression “more clearly captures the defining goal of the behavior in question—to do social harm. Social aggression can certainly harm friendships, but these behaviors can also harm social standing and social self-concept” (p. 32). Third, the term social aggression, in comparison to the labels indirect and relational aggression, designates the broadest range of non-physically aggressive behaviors. Social aggression is manifested overtly or covertly, directly or indirectly, and verbally or nonverbally. In the remainder of the chapter we will refer to relational aggression and indirect aggression when these terms are employed by the authors we cite. In all cases, however, we consider these to be subsumed by the more encompassing phenomenon of social aggression.

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WHY SOCIAL AGGRESSION AMONG GIRLS? Although we focus on girls in this chapter, we acknowledge that both boys and girls should be included in research on social aggression and intervention.4 For decades childhood aggression researchers ignored girls, focusing on physical fighting and aggression perpetrated by boys in particular (see Berkowitz, 1993; Crick & Dodge, 1994, for reviews). Only within the last two decades have they begun to unveil the intricacies of girls’ aggressive behavior and how we might address it (Crick, Bigbee, & Howes, 1996). This research has fostered much debate about sex differences in relation to whether girls tend to be more covertly and socially aggressive, whereas boys tend to be more overtly and physically aggressive (e.g., Xie, Cairns, & Cairns, 2002). Typically findings have suggested that the pervasiveness of social aggression indeed varies by sex. Most studies using teacher reports and observation of behavior, peer ratings, as well as ethnographic approaches have indicated boys tend to be more overtly and physically aggressive, whereas girls are more indirectly, socially, and relationally aggressive (e.g., Björkqvist, Lagerspetz, & Kaukianien, 1992; Cairns et al., 1989; Lagerspetz et al., 1988; McNeilly-Choque, Hart, Robinson, Nelson, & Olsen, 1996). Differences have been apparent as young as three years old with girls delivering and receiving more relational aggression than boys (Ostrov, Woods, Jansen, Casas, & Crick, 2004). Other studies have nonetheless suggested that boys use both physical and relational aggression and that girls are relationally aggressive only (Coie & Dodge, 1998; Crick, 1997). Some have even found that boys are more relationally aggressive than girls (David & Kistner, 2000; Rys & Bear, 1997). Geiger, Zimmer-Gembeck, and Crick (2004) contend that these inconsistencies in results are largely due to variations and biases in assessment instruments such as teacher and self-reports, but that more objective measurement tools such as naturalistic observation consistently have revealed that girls tend to be more relationally aggressive than boys (e.g., Ostrov & Keating, 2004). Card et al. (2008) have come closer to settling the gender differences debate in their recent meta-analysis of 148 childhood and adolescent aggression studies that included a variety of types of assessment. They determined that boys tend to perpetrate direct aggression (i.e., verbal and physical) significantly more than girls, and that girls tend to perpetrate indirect aggression more than boys; however, the latter difference was trivial in magnitude. Given this finding, research on indirect forms of aggression among boys is equally important as that focusing on girls. Ignoring the ways in which boys perpetrate and are victimized by social aggression will only repeat the oversights researchers previously made with girls, leaving us unaware of the intricacies of boys’ social aggressiveness and, perhaps more importantly, unable to address its potentially deleterious effects.

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Although we acknowledge the importance of research dedicated to social forms of aggression among boys, in the present chapter we focus our discussion on girls because of intervention implications. Research suggests that intervention methods that address social aggression are imperative to the health of girls especially. Specifically, studies indicate that being a target of social aggression is associated with sex differences in social–psychological difficulties, with girls typically experiencing more distress than boys, perhaps because girls in particular place a strong emphasis on close interaction during middle childhood (Maccoby, 1990). For example, Crick and Grotpeter (1995) found a stronger relationship between relational aggression and social–psychological maladjustment for females than for males, and in Galen and Underwood’s (1997) study, girls rated social aggression as more hurtful than did boys. Also, Paquette and Underwood’s (1999) research on peer victimization determined that girls thought about social aggression more, were distressed more by it than boys, and that girls’ self-concepts were related more strongly than boys’ self-concepts to frequency of social aggression. Consistent with these findings, more recent studies also suggest that relational aggression may be more consequential for girls than boys. In Crick and Nelson’s (2002) study of aggression within friendships, they found that after controlling for physical victimization, relational victimization contributed significantly to predicting maladjustment for girls, but contributed little to predicting maladjustment for boys. Moreover, relational victimization has been uniquely associated with depression, fear of negative evaluation, and social avoidance of general situations for girls but not boys among Hispanic and African-American children (Storch, Nock, Masia-Warner, & Barlas, 2003). In a study of junior high, high school, and college students that assessed perceptions of relational victimization occurring in acquaintanceships, friendships, and dating relationships, Goldstein and Tisak (2004) found that in comparison to males, females believed that relational aggression would be more damaging to their relationships and that they would feel worse about themselves if they were victimized. These findings point to the need for programs that address social forms of aggression among girls because of its negative impact on their sense of self. Additionally, as mentioned above, recently there has been an explosion of media coverage on meanness, leading some practitioners and lay people prematurely to implement interventions designed to reduce social aggression among girls. These methods typically are neither theoretically grounded nor empirically tested, which can potentially lead to negative outcomes for participants (Geiger et al., 2004). Geiger et al. also caution against using the same intervention strategies with both girls and boys given that what may be effective for one group may not be for the other. Although Card et al.’s (2008) meta-analysis indicates that boys and girls perpetrate social forms of aggression with similar frequencies, research has yet to reveal if there are

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significant qualitative differences between girls’ and boys’ socially aggressive messages. For example, social aggression among girls often includes manipulating romantic relationships with boys (e.g., flirting with the target’s boyfriend) (Willer & Cupach, 2008), whereas social aggression among boys frequently involves homophobic victimization (e.g., calling someone “homo” or “fag”) (Phoenix, Frosh, & Pattman, 2003; Poteat & Espelage, 2007). These nuances may necessitate unique intervention strategies for girls and boys. Thus, we contend that a focus on girls in the present chapter is important so that practitioners and researchers can begin designing safe and effective programs that are grounded in research and theory and that address girls’ unique relationships and needs.

THE DARK SIDE OF SOCIAL AGGRESSION Most studies that examine the correlates of peer aggression focus on children who are chronically victimized (i.e., bullied). The adverse consequences for victims of bullying are well documented (e.g., Rigby, 2003). Hawker and Boulton (2000) conducted a meta-analysis spanning nearly two decades of research on the association between peer victimization and psychosocial maladjustment. They discerned that victimization in general (i.e., including indirect, relational, physical, verbal, and generic forms) was consistently related to depression and loneliness, and to a lesser degree, anxiety and diminished social and global self-esteem. Severe suicidal ideation has been associated with frequently being a target of bullying (Kaltiala-Heino, Rimpelä, Marttunen, Rimpelä, & Rantanen, 1999). Additionally, being a victim of bullying has been linked to a number of physical health outcomes such as headaches, abdominal pain, stomachaches, backaches, dizziness, sleeplessness, and bedwetting (Greco, Freeman, & Dufton, 2007; Natvig, Albrektsen, & Qvarnstrom, 2001; Williams, Chambers, Logan, & Robinson, 1996). Being victimized also has been correlated with low school performance. For example, Olweus (1978) found that victims of bullying received lower than average grades in comparison with neutral or well-adjusted children and Schwartz, Farver, Chang, and Lee-Shin (2002) reported that those who were low academic achievers tended to be children who were aggressive victims (i.e., bully victims). Because many studies of peer victimization employ cross-sectional designs, the direction of causality is ambiguous. “A persistent question, for example, is the extent to which pre-existing psychological difficulties lead to victimization, which in turn leads to poor school outcomes, versus victimization leading to psychological destabilization, which then results in deteriorating academic functioning” (Elias & Zins, 2003, p. 3). Although both patterns of causality are plausible, developmental investigations provide robust support

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for the claim that maladjustment is a consequence of victimization (Goldbaum, Craig, Pepler, & Connolly, 2003; Nansel, Haynie, & SimonsMorton, 2003; Paul & Cillessen, 2003). Studies of bullying typically amalgamate the various forms of aggression (e.g., physical versus social), making it difficult to isolate effects that are specifically attributable only to social aggression. Studies that do focus on social aggression in particular also show that victimization tends to be associated with internalizing difficulties, especially for girls. For example, self-reports of relational and social victimization in children are related to depression and loneliness (Crick & Bigbee, 1998; Crick & Grotpeter, 1996), as well as poor self-concept (Paquette & Underwood, 1999). Moreover, teachers’ reports of relational aggression have been positively related to depressed affect for preschool girls (Crick, Casas, & Mosher, 1997). Among ninth, tenth, and eleventh grade girls, relational victimization has been related to fear of negative evaluation, social avoidance of general and new situations, and loneliness (Storch & Masia-Warner, 2004). Additionally, relational victimization in a sample of ninth graders predicted symptoms of social phobia one year later (Storch, Masia-Warner, Crisp, & Klein, 2005). For those adolescents who experience both overt and relational victimization, higher levels of social anxiety, depression, and loneliness have been found (Prinstein, Boergers, & Vernberg, 2001). Beyond internalizing symptoms, social victimization has been associated with behavioral problems among girls as well, including physical aggression and marijuana use (Sullivan, Farrell, & Kliewer, 2006). In Crick and Bigbee’s (1998) study of fourth and fifth graders, those who were relationally victimized were more submissive and reported more self-restraint problems, such as difficulty inhibiting anger and impulsivity, than their peers. Social aggression also has been studied in relation to peer acceptance and rejection. In Crick’s (1996) study of third- through sixth-grade students, among victimized girls relational aggression and overt aggression were inversely related to future peer acceptance. In another study with preschoolers, relational victimization and overt victimization were related to peer rejection in girls (Crick et al., 1997). In addition to the ill effects of social aggression on targets, a few studies have found that there are also associated adjustment problems for perpetrators as well. In Crick and Grotpeter’s (1995) study of third through sixth graders, in comparison to non-aggressive children, those individuals who peers nominated as high on relational aggression were more rejected and scored higher on self-reports of loneliness, depression, and social isolation. Moreover, in Burton, Hafetz, and Henninger’s (2007) study, college females’ relational aggression scores were inversely associated with agreeableness, overall emotional understanding and functioning, conscientiousness, and interpersonal functioning. In Werner and Crick’s (1999) study of sorority

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and fraternity members, females’ relational aggressiveness was negatively associated with life satisfaction, and positively associated with antisocial behavior, affective instability, affective features of depression, peer rejection, negative relationships, stimulus seeking, egocentricity, self-harm behavior, and bulimic symptoms. Finally, in their meta-analysis, Card et al. (2008) analyzed the associations between both direct and indirect forms of aggression and perpetrators’ maladjustment. Direct aggression, including physical and verbal forms, in comparison with indirect aggression, was correlated more strongly and uniquely with emotional dysregulation, conduct problems, low peer acceptance, and peer rejection. Indirect aggression, in comparison, was correlated more strongly and uniquely with internalizing problems, such as anxiety and depression. The dark side of socially aggressive behavior would seem obvious and it is amply illustrated by empirical findings. Perhaps that is why “most clinical and/or developmental explanations . . . have in common the underlying beliefs that aggressive behavior and trait aggression are undesirable, bad, maladaptive, and probably evil” (Vaughn & Santos, 2007, p. 54). Such beliefs, however, may obscure a more complete understanding of the functions of aggression (Bukowski, 2003; Hawley, 2007; see Chapter 13, this volume; Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007). As Underwood (2003) challenges: It is important to acknowledge that some of the same forces that compel our fascination with bad girls may also cloud our attempts to understand them. In part, our fascination has to be related to the fact that girls’ bad behavior (be it violence or social aggression) severely violates our stereotypes of girls as nice, compliant, and prosocial. That such behavior undermines our deepest-held assumptions about what it means to be female might tempt us to pathologize all forms of girls’ aggression rather than seek to understand why girls might engage in them. (p. 183)

Thus, next we move beyond social aggression as a predictor of largely destructive outcomes, toward a discussion of theoretical explanations underlying girls’ social aggressiveness.

WHY ARE GIRLS SOCIALLY AGGRESSIVE? Although various theories can be applied to account for aggressive behavior, we briefly summarize two frameworks that seem particularly well suited to explaining girls’ social aggression: Social identity theory and an evolutionary perspective that entails resource control theory.

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Social Identity Theory Social identity theory (Tajfel & Turner, 1979, 1986) is based on the assumption that people categorize their social worlds, seeing themselves as members of ingroups and dissimilar others as members of outgroups. Maintaining this psychological differentiation fosters social comparison such that ingroup members seek to see themselves as positively distinct from members of outgroups. Identifying and labeling the self and others as members of ingroups and outgroups called cliques and/or crowds enables young people to establish who they are and who they are not (Thurlow, 2001a). Cliques are interaction-based, relatively intimate groups of individuals who spend considerable and often exclusive amounts of time together and who share similar interests and behaviors (Ennett & Bauman, 1996; Thurlow, 2001a). Crowds are reputation- and stereotype-based groups of adolescents who others perceive as sharing common interests, attitudes, abilities, and/or personal characteristics (Thurlow, 2001a). Teenagers historically have categorized one another into a number of peer cliques and crowds that vary in their degree of social centrality and popularity. These groups are given names such as “Populars,” “Preps,” “Cheerleaders,” “Jocks,” “Burnouts,” “Druggies,” “Dorks,” “Nerds,” “Normals,” “Alternatives,” “Hoods/Gangsters/ Thugs,” “Hicks/Hillbillies,” and “Dirties” (Batiuk, Boland, & Wilcox, 2004; Eckert, 1989; Eder, 1985; Kinney, 1993; Merten, 1996). High school students also categorize peer crowds according to features such as ethnicity, (e.g., “the Asians”), age (e.g., “the Year 9s”), and sexual identity (e.g., “the Lesbians”) (Thurlow, 2001b). Especially important for children and adolescents in relation to their identity are the prominent features of the group, including its status and popularity (i.e., social centrality) (Farmer, Xie, Cairns, & Hutchins, 2007). Girls in particular are concerned with being a part of and interacting with higher status groups and peers (Eder, 1985). Girls develop a heightened need for social approval during adolescence, showing an increased concern for others’ opinions of them, as well as elevated self-consciousness (Coleman, 1961; Eder, 1985; Rosenberg & Simmons, 1975). According to social identity theory, this concern with popularity and being well liked is the result of a desire for positive social identity.5 As long as membership in the group is valued and salient, a person is said to have positive social identification with the group. However, when comparisons with the outgroup lead to negative perceptions of one’s own identity, individuals are motivated to repair their damaged social self-esteem (Harwood, Giles, & Palomares, 2005; Tajfel & Turner, 1986). One means for converting a negative social identity into one that is positive is through social competition or direct struggle between groups (Harwood et al., 2005). Outgroup competition can manifest in the form of discrimination

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and aggression (e.g., Ojala & Nesdale, 2004). In general, young peers are more likely to aggress against outgroup members than ingroup members (Sherif & Sherif, 1970), and they specifically report that they exclude and aggress against others in order to protect and confirm group standing and their own sense of belonging and acceptance (Leets & Sunwolf, 2005; Underwood, 2003). Gossip in particular seems to function to establish an “us versus them” environment within the larger peer context (Gottman & Mettetal, 1986; McDonald, Putallaz, Grimes, Kupersmidt, & Coie, 2007). Furthermore, overtly aggressive children in Grotpeter and Crick’s (1996) study reported using aggression along with their friends in order to harm those peers outside of the friendship and they indicated that they would be upset if their friends did not join them in their aggression. In addition to engaging in intergroup competition as a result of perceived negative social identification, social identity theory suggests that ingroup members may choose other alternatives such as making intragroup comparisons in an effort to attain positive social self-esteem (Harwood et al., 2005). Intragroup identity includes the individual’s role in and relationship with the social ingroup (Worchel, Iuzzini, Coutant, & Ivaldi, 2000). Some members of cliques have more nuclear centrality and influence and tend to be leaders in their ingroup as well as the larger social structure (Cairns, Leung, Buchanan, & Cairns, 1995; Farmer et al., 2007). Others are central but play supportive roles to the leader and also vie for status and influence with her (Adler & Adler, 1995; Eder, 1985; Farmer et al., 2007; Merten, 1996). Still other group members are largely followers, and their involvement in the group can be somewhat central, relatively peripheral, or even marginal (Adler & Adler, 1995; Farmer et al., 2007). If comparison with ingroup members does not lead to positive social identity, girls unfortunately may be motivated to engage in competition with certain ingroup members. Among high school girls, targets of social aggression report that they share a relatively close relationship with their perpetrators (Willer & Cupach, 2008). Ethnographic studies show, moreover, that social aggression manifests itself within cliques as girls struggle to maintain and enhance their own popularity and status (Adler & Adler, 1998; Eder, 1985; Merten, 1997). Research not only indicates that social aggression occurs within peer groups but also that intragroup comparison may impact the extent to which targets perceive social aggression’s damaging nature. Studies specifically suggest that the higher a target’s popularity and intragroup status, that is, the extent to which she perceives herself to be more liked and influential in her peer network in comparison to the perpetrator of social aggression, the less adversely she is affected emotionally and the less likely she is to forgive the perpetrator (Willer & Cupach, 2008; Willer & Soliz, in press). Thus, a social identity framework sharpens our understanding of social aggression as more than merely mean behavior. Instead, it demonstrates the important role of

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both intergroup and intragroup processes in influencing the motivations and meanings associated with girls’ social aggression. In summary, social identity theory offers a useful account for why girls engage in social aggression. As girls mature, their need for social approval becomes acute. This need is fulfilled, in part, by girls making social comparisons in which affiliations with a valued ingroup accord them status and popularity vis-à-vis outgroup members. Acts of social aggression committed against outgroup members diminish their relative social standing, while elevating the social status of ingroup members. In addition, girls jockey for relative power and popularity within their ingroup hierarchy, and this competition can be manifested in acts of social aggression among ingroup members. Because social relationships are at the core of girls’ identity concerns, the manipulation of relationships via social aggression is a natural mechanism for negotiating identities. In other words, girls’ social identity concerns translate into social forms of aggression. Although this claim is consistent with social identity theory, additional empirical support is demonstrated in a series of studies designed to test an evolutionary perspective on aggression. These studies found that social status motives led females to engage in more indirect aggression, but not more direct aggression (Griskevicius et al., 2009). Thus, we offer an evolutionary framework as complementary to social identity theory for explaining the motivation behind girls’ social aggression.

An Evolutionary Perspective Whereas most developmental approaches to child aggression focus on its maladaptive, deviant, and pathological nature, evolutionary views consider aggressiveness as generally adaptive in both non-human and human primates. Successful competition for scarce resources, both material and social, enable optimal growth and development. One way that such competition manifests itself is in the form of coercive strategies, such as taking from, monopolizing, and thwarting others (e.g., Hawley, 1999, 2003a, 2007; Hawley, Little, & Pasupathi, 2002). Coercive strategies rely on dominance, threat, and aggression. Like chimpanzee societies, for example, humans have adopted intergroup aggression which allows for “the acquisition (by the victorious group) of resources (previously) controlled by the losing group” (Vaughn & Santos, 2007, p. 39). Although competition accounts for intergroup aggression among cliques and crowds, aggression also occurs as members of ingroups compete to gain control of resources (Hawley, 2003a). In other words, although social group membership allows an individual to obtain resources that she could not obtain on her own, ingroup members compete among themselves for access as well (Hawley, 2003a). Hawley and her colleagues (Hawley, 1999, 2003a, 2007; Hawley et al., 2002) have explored

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within-group competition and social dominance, defining it in terms of effective resource control. According to resource control theory (e.g., Hawley, 2002, 2003a, 2007), coercive and aggressive strategies are one means of exerting power and dominance, and thus gaining ingroup resources. Getting ahead, however, also involves getting along by means of prosocial strategies, including such socially appropriate behaviors as helping, sharing, and appearing altruistic (Hawley et al., 2002). Research indicates that both humans and non-human primates control resources via both coercive and prosocial means. Among wild chimpanzees for example, both males and females compete for status within the group by using both physical prowess and political skill (see Vaughn & Santos, 2007 for a review). Using a variety of measurement techniques (i.e., observation, self-report, teacher report, peer nomination), Hawley and colleagues classified children into subtypes based on their predominant strategies for controlling resources (e.g., Hawley 2003a, 2003b; Hawley et al., 2002).6 Prosocial controllers tend to favor prosocial strategies and to eschew coercive strategies in competing for resources. They are better than average at attaining resources and social dominance status. In contrast, coercive controllers, who prefer coercive means of control and abjure prosocial strategies, are better than average at obtaining resources but they are socially unskilled and rejected by their peers. Bistrategic controllers employ both prosocial and coercive resource control strategies with regularity, and hence share some of the qualities of both prosocial and coercive controllers. Like prosocial controllers, bistrategic controllers are socially skilled and well-liked (Hawley 2003a, 2003b). They also enjoy high quality and intimate best friendships (Hawley, Little, & Card, 2007). Bistrategic controllers, however, are aggressive in ways similar to coercive controllers. It is important to note that among all these groups of children, bistrategic controllers are most effective at resource competition (Hawley, 2003b; Hawley et al., 2002). Successful resource competition has inherent value in its instrumental goal attainment, but there are additional concomitant benefits. According to the social centrality hypothesis, individuals are attracted to and seek the attention of dominant, successful others (Hawley, 1999; Strayer, 1980, 1992; Strayer & Noel, 1986). Thus, individuals who are more successful at resource competition also tend to be more popular. “High-status females in general would be highly socially attractive . . . [because] they have demonstrated competency with material, social, and informational resources and as such make for highly valued alliance partners” (Hawley, 2007, p. 18). This comports with the empirical evidence that both non-human and human females’ status is dependent on their relationship with others in the group. For example, the rank of certain species of female baboons and macaques depends on their success at obtaining and maintaining relationships with other females (Hawley, 1999). More specific to humans, research indicates

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that girls in particular compete for and seek acceptance from high status and popular girls and cliques (e.g., Eder, 1985; Merten, 1996), and socially aggressive acts perpetrated by more popular peers are more damaging for victimized girls and young women (Willer & Cupach, 2008; Willer & Soliz, in press). In sum, an evolutionary account suggests that some aggressive behavior is adaptive. Although reactive (provoked) aggression is associated with maladjustment, instrumental (proactive) aggression designed to control resources generally is not (Card & Little, 2007; Little, Brauner, Jones, Nock, & Hawley, 2003). In fact, successful resource control ensures one’s social dominance (Hawley, 2007) and bolsters one’s social standing and reputation (Cillessen & Mayeux, 2007; Cillessen & Rose, 2005). Those who are most successful at resource control employ a balanced repertoire of both aggressive and prosocial control strategies (Hawley, 2007). When females in particular are motivated by social status (and mating) concerns, they favor indirect rather than direct forms of aggression (Griskevicius et al., 2009). Both social identity theory and an evolutionary perspective suggest that the motives for and consequences of girls’ social aggression are not entirely pernicious. Therefore, we now briefly examine the potentially positive side of social aggression.

THE BRIGHT SIDE OF SOCIAL AGGRESSION Although it is important to understand the inimical consequences of social aggression for both perpetrators and victims, “it also seems important to recognize that these behaviors may not always predict negative developmental outcomes, may occur for developmental reasons, and may even be related to some types of social skills” (Underwood, 2003, p. 201). There is indeed evidence that some forms of social aggression are positively associated with measures of social competence (e.g., Kaukiainen et al., 1999; Vaughn, Vollenweider, Bost, Azria-Evans, & Snider, 2003). This is consistent with the notion that social competence entails exhibiting both effectiveness (i.e., “getting ahead,” achieving personal goals) and social appropriateness (i.e., “getting along,” maintaining desired relationships with others) (Spitzberg & Cupach, 1984, 2002; Wiemann, 1977). “Though we are by nature gregarious, we are also acquisitive. A unique brand of social competence may very well be found where these two independent forces collide” (Hawley, 2007, p. 22). Consistent with social identity theory, social aggression fosters ingroup cohesion (Adler & Adler, 1995). This bolsters girls’ sense of belonging and acceptance (e.g., Paquette & Underwood, 1999), while at the same time contributing to the growth of their personal identity. Social identification serves a number of functions, including self-insight and understanding,

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downward social comparison, collective self-esteem, ingroup cooperation, intergroup comparison and competition, social interaction, and romantic involvement (Deaux, 2000). If social aggression plays a role in creating a positive identity, then some socially aggressive acts are not entirely dysfunctional. Thus, more research is necessary in order to determine the benefits of social aggression that occur as a result of the girls’ desire for positive social self-esteem. In particular, it is important to understand how social aggression can enable positive distinctiveness with the ingroup while minimizing the detrimental consequences for the recipients of the aggression. Resource control theory also explains why some contextually adapted social aggression may be regarded as socially competent (even if it is considered socially unacceptable; see Smith, 2007). Socially competent individuals are able to compete successfully for tangible and intangible resources, and the most successful competitors use a judicious blend of both prosocial and coercive means (Hawley, 2007). Bistrategic controllers are socially competent, both in terms of instrumental goal achievement (i.e., controlling resources) and relationship cultivation (i.e., enjoying popularity and strong friendships). They possess the broadest repertoire of resource control strategies, and they appropriately adapt their use of strategies to social circumstances—hallmarks of social competence (Spitzberg & Cupach, 1984, 1989). This is consistent with evidence that aggression and perceived popularity exhibit a curvilinear relationship (Prinstein & Cillessen, 2003). Children who are moderately aggressive are seen as more popular than those who score lower or higher on aggressiveness. “Aggressive children who are otherwise socially competent seem to fare well in their peer groups at all ages. They do not attain their goals solely on the basis of aggressive behavior but they can call on their aggressive skills when warranted” (Vaughn & Santos, 2007, p. 43). As Hawley (2003b, p. 284) explains, “these children may have an aggressive stance that is psychologically adaptive because it is effective in achieving instrumental goals and executed in a way that it inspires enough admiration to mitigate social fallout.” The sophisticated use of prosocial strategies in addition to more coercive strategies may blunt the potentially adverse social effects of aggression. In a replication of Hawley’s (2003b) research, Bukowski and Abecassis (2007) found that although the association between peer acceptance and prosociality was positive, “it was stronger for children whose aggression scores were high rather than low. In other words, aggression increased the strength of the association between acceptance and being prosocial” (pp. 197–198). The authors suggest “these findings imply that perhaps a balance of self-assertion and concern for others is the royal road to being liked by peers” (p. 198). Although we have focused here on the functional and adaptive elements of social aggression for aggressors, we also should note that not all forms of

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social aggression are necessarily or uniformly bad for recipients of such aggression. For example, in Jaeger, Skelder, and Rosnow’s (1998) study of sorority members, they found that frequent targets of gossip had more close friends than moderate and infrequent targets. In another study regarding students’ beliefs about bullying, 60% of students endorsed the view that bullying is beneficial because it “makes kids tougher” (Oliver, Hoover, & Hazler, 1994). Endorsement of this belief may very well be a rationalization peers use to justify their aggressive behavior. It is plausible, however, that some recipients of social aggression may cope by adapting their social skills and becoming more assertive. Doing so would enhance their social standing and diminish their frequency of victimization. Another belief held by some students is that bullying “teaches about behavior unacceptable to the group” (Oliver et al., 1994, p. 418). Just as parents intentionally embarrass their children to sanction socially inappropriate behavior (Miller, 1996), peers may use social aggression to socialize members about group norms. Sharkey (1992, 1997), for example, found that the two most common reasons people reported for intentionally embarrassing another were to foster solidarity and to negatively sanction behavior. In Gottman and Mettetal’s (1986) observational study of female dyads in middle childhood, negative gossip served to establish shared opinions and norms (e.g., one should not be a cry baby). Peers who respond to social aggression by conforming to group expectations are permitted group membership, thereby according them the social status they desire. At the same time, such conformity promotes group cohesion (see Cialdini & Trost, 1998). Leaper and Holliday (1995), for example, found that female dyads tended to respond to evaluative gossip with high levels of encouragement. The authors suggest that gossip may be a means of establishing solidarity and making social comparisons. Beyond investigations of gossip and intentional embarrassment in particular, these benefits of social aggression are largely speculative. Unfortunately, research on aggression typically explores its negative consequences to the exclusion of its potential adaptive qualities. Given the functionally ambivalent nature of some forms of aggression (Hawley, 2007; Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007), further empirical exploration of the positive outcomes of social aggression seems warranted. Notwithstanding the potential benefits, there are serious negative consequences associated with some forms of social aggression, for both perpetrators and victims. Intervention programs have consequently been devised and implemented (e.g., Dellasega & Adamshick, 2005) in an effort to reduce the prevalence of girls’ social aggression and to diminish its ill effects. In the following section, we offer some guidelines intended to avert the potential pitfalls of intervention efforts.

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AVOIDING THE DARK SIDE OF INTERVENTION Empirical support for the efficacy and safety of some interventions unfortunately lags behind the social agenda for controlling social aggression (Geiger et al., 2004; Underwood, 2003). It is important to recognize that there is a dark side to premature intervention. Social aggression is a complex phenomenon. Successful intervention requires sophisticated planning, skilled implementation, and careful assessment.7 Well-intentioned but misguided intervention can ultimately produce more harm than good. As Underwood (2003, p. 212) indicates, “although many hold high hopes for the potential benefits to reduce social aggression, there are also several reasons to proceed cautiously.” In an effort to maximize the usefulness of interventions directed at social aggression, we offer the following recommendations. First, interventions need to be tested for efficacy. Intended outcomes of interventions may be short-lived, or may not accrue at all. For example, Fox and Boulton (2003) experimentally tested the effectiveness of a social skills training program for victims (ages 9–11) of bullying. Measures of social skills, peer victimization, and peer acceptance were obtained with a peer nomination inventory. Psychosocial adjustment variables were measured via self-report. Assessments were taken three times over the course of an academic year. Results indicated that the experimental group showed an increase in global self-esteem compared to the control group. There were no observed improvements, however, in either social skills or victim status. Because the intended outcomes of an intervention program cannot be presumed, it is necessary to conduct program evaluation. Efforts to reduce social aggression may be particularly challenging because social aggression is often covert and indirect, making it difficult to observe directly (Underwood, 2003). This is complicated by the fact that girls may be skeptical of intervention and resist change (e.g., Owens, Shute, & Slee, 2000; see also, Owens, Slee, & Shute, 2001). After all, girls benefit from their socially aggressive behavior insofar as it accords them social dominance, makes them popular, and bolsters their sense of group belonging and acceptance. With the prospect of such benefits, socially aggressive girls “may sabotage intervention efforts by conveying to adults that they support the goals of the program while continuing to surreptitiously exclude others, gossip, and manipulate friendships” (Underwood, 2003, p. 228). Given these challenges it is important to determine if interventions indeed are effective. Second, those implementing interventions must anticipate unintended consequences. To the extent that girls accrue benefits as well as harm from social aggression, interventions aimed at reducing social aggression may diminish or extinguish those benefits. Social identity theory suggests that social aggression yields positive outcomes including esteem, belonging,

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acceptance, and group cohesion, and resource control theory indicates that social competence includes aggressive behavior that allows for control and popularity. Because of the prevailing view that aggression is strictly harmful (Bukowski, 2003; Vaughn & Santos, 2007), interventionists may lose sight of the fact that reducing socially aggressive behavior may lead to a decrease in both negative and positive outcomes. Aside from undermining the functional adaptation benefits of social aggression, there is the potential for some forms of intervention to backfire inadvertently, leading to more harm rather than less. For instance, the high school girls in Owens et al.’s (2000) study indicated that intervention efforts, although well-intentioned, actually served to exacerbate indirect aggression. In another example, Geiger et al. (2004) describe a school-based effort designed to reduce relational aggression that included having both perpetrators and targets interact in groups. Participants were instructed to write anonymous apology notes that adult instructors read out loud. One note said: I’m sorry that I talked about you behind your back. I once even compared your forehead/face to a minefield . . . I’m really sorry I said these things even though I still might believe them. (Talbot, 2002, p. 26)

As this note indicates, group-based approaches that rely on self-disclosure can create the potential for re-victimization (Geiger et al., 2004), and therefore, girls are best served if adults can anticipate and mitigate such consequences. Third, interventions should be driven by theory and research. In other words, interventions should be “based on empirically derived developmental models of how problematic behaviors develop” (Underwood, 2003, p. 213) and “targeted toward the processes that lead to problem behavior, in addition to the behavior of interest” (Geiger et al., 2004, pp. 27–28). For example, social identity theory and resource control theory are well suited for addressing processes including negative outgroup perceptions and social (in)competence, respectively. Social identity theory provides a framework for Brown and Hewstone’s (2005) intergroup contact model, which is based on the premise that if cooperative, close interaction between ingroup and outgroup members can be arranged and if ingroup and outgroup membership can be made psychologically salient, positive changes such as decreased negative perceptions, discrimination, and aggressive behavior should generalize to those groups as a whole (Brown & Hewstone, 2005). In other words, if interventions bring members of different cliques together to complete a cooperative task and if group identity remains obvious during such cooperation, girls would reframe their negative perceptions of one

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another and outgroup cliques in general, which potentially could lead to decreased social aggression. Resource control theory also provides a framework for addressing girls’ aggression as well. For example, intervention programs have been implemented to foster prosocial competence skills, including developing friendship-making abilities (e.g., joining playgroups, inviting peers to play), increasing empathic behaviors and social problem solving, and decreasing hostile attribution biases (Cappella & Weinstein, 2006; Grossman et al., 1997; Leff, Goldstein, Angelucci, Cardaciotto, & Grossman, 2007; Ostrov et al., 2009). Despite the research that indicates both prosocial strategies and coercive strategies allow for positive benefits, interventions to date typically have ignored the latter. Obviously interventions should not focus on teaching girls to bully others, but it is important to question whether interventions that focus merely on prosocial strategies reinforce gender-related expectations for girls’ good behavior and leave them ill-equipped for obtaining interpersonal and career goals in the future. Instead, intervention might focus on educating girls to be assertive, rather than overly aggressive or overly passive. We concur with Underwood (2003), who suggests that “if social aggression in middle childhood is related to girls’ struggling between feeling furious but wanting to be nice and to dissemble negative emotions, one strategy for reducing social aggression might be assertiveness training” (p. 223). Assertiveness has long been considered to be a skill essential to interpersonal competence (e.g., Alden & Cappe, 1981; for review see Spitzberg & Cupach, 1989). Fourth, interventions should be adapted and nuanced in order to achieve their intended objectives and to address the needs of girls. In other words, interventionists must identify whom should be targeted and what the purpose of the intervention should be. The nature of intervention strategies will necessarily “vary according to the goals of the program (e.g., reduced aggression, increased assertiveness for victims, increased social skills, reduced distress/maladjustment)” (Geiger et al., 2004, p. 38). As noted earlier, interventions for girls and boys may need to be different. It remains to be seen whether the manifestations of social aggression are similar for girls and boys, and more importantly, the extent to which the functions and consequences of social aggression differ for girls and boys. Because social aggression can be associated with maladjustment during early and middle childhood, but with popularity during adolescence, developmental issues and participants’ age also should be taken into consideration before interventions are implemented (Geiger et al., 2004). As we suggested earlier, it may be necessary to intervene with perpetrators and targets of aggression separately. Moreover, targets and perpetrators’ experiences with social aggression are not necessarily similar, and therefore, interventionists should take individual needs into consideration as well. For

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instance, in relation to types of perpetrators who may need unique intervention strategies, Hawley (2007) contends that “moral education, skillbuilding, perspective-taking enhancements, and sensitivity training would likely be of little value to youths [i.e., bistrategic controllers] who are already excelling in these domains” (p. 21). Additionally, those perpetrators whose social aggressiveness is accompanied by other damaging behaviors, such as destruction of property and physical aggression, require unique intervention and prevention strategies that may not be appropriate for all girls (see Pepler, Madsen, Webster, & Levene, 2005 for a discussion of the treatment of developmental girlhood aggression). Apart from considering the nature of girls’ perpetration of social aggression, interventionists should consider targets’ distinctive needs as well. As with perpetrators whose aggressive behaviors may be severe and recurring, some targets of social aggression may be victimized repeatedly by their peers, and therefore suffer a number of psychosocial adjustment problems as a result. Girls such as these may require therapeutic interventions led by trained psychologists who not only can help them develop more effective behavioral skills, but also who can help them cope emotionally. Programs to date typically focus on reducing the perpetration of aggression by means of educating girls about social aggression and teaching prosocial skills (e.g., Cappella & Weinstein, 2006; Dellasega & Adamshick, 2005). Interventions such as these are important; however, few programs address the needs of victims of social aggression who may suffer emotional and health-related consequences. Therefore, future interventions should be directed at targets (e.g., Willer, 2009) as well as perpetrators of social aggression.

CONCLUSION “Evil takes the human form in Regina George.” “She’s the queen bee. A star.” The words of Janis and Damian, respectively, educating Cady about Regina (in the movie Mean Girls, Messik et al., 2004)

Regina George, like other fictional and actual girls, is both mean and popular. Although girls may manipulate, exclude, and gossip, they simultaneously may be considered what is referred to as “teen royalty” in the movie Mean Girls. Thus, our title presents the question, is girls’ social aggression nasty or is it mastery? Our answer is both. Girls’ social aggression can be mean-spirited and quite hurtful to victims. When performed routinely and maliciously, it amounts to bullying behavior and, as such, incurs adverse psychological and behavioral harm for the perpetrator as well as for victims. Until recently these dark outcomes have clouded our vision, disallowing us to imagine and explore the theoretical underpinnings for why girls are aggressive, as well as

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the silver linings inherent in such behavior. As such, social identity theory and social evolution/resource control theories allow us to expand our understanding beyond aggression as uniformly maladaptive and evil. In particular, the theories reveal that intergroup and intragroup comparison and competition that manifest as social aggression can afford girls a positive sense of social self-esteem, as well as access to relational resources such as popularity. The functionally equivocal nature of social aggression makes addressing it perplexing, and therefore, interventions must be designed and implemented heedfully. Without careful consideration, interventions can also show a dark side as illustrated in Mean Girls when Gretchen’s peers let her fall to the floor during her trust-fall because, instead of apologizing for her mean behavior, she says, “I’m sorry that people are so jealous of me, but I can’t help it that I’m so popular” (Messik et al., 2004). Interventions should include testing for efficacy and anticipating unintended consequences. In addition, interventions should be driven by theory and research and adapted to fit the needs of participants. Ignoring these considerations may set up girls, like Gretchen, to fall to the floor.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS We are grateful to Jody Koenig Kellas, Jordan Soliz, and Brian Spitzberg, who provided valuable advice as we composed and revised this chapter.

NOTES 1 When bullying is carried out by a group of harassers against a single individual it is sometimes referred to as mobbing (Pikas, 1989), although the term mobbing is also employed to designate harassment and bullying that occurs specifically among adults in the workplace setting (Leymann, 1996; Zapf & Einarsen, 2005). 2 A minority of authors do not view power asymmetry as a necessary criterion for bullying (e.g., Kowalski, 2007). 3 Due to space limitations, we confine our discussion to girls’ social aggression in peer relationships. However, we acknowledge an emerging literature on social (relational) aggression in romantic relationships (e.g., Goldstein, Chesir-Teran, & McFaul, 2008; Leadbeater, Banister, Ellis, & Yeung, 2008; Lento, 2006; Schad, Szwedo, Antonishak, Hare, & Allen, 2008). 4 The studies cited in this chapter pertain to girls in various developmental stages, ranging from early childhood to late adolescence. A small number of studies focus on young adult women in college. 5 It is important to distinguish between being liked by one’s peers versus being perceived as popular by one’s peers. Sociometric popularity is an indication of how well liked a child is and is a measure of social preference, indicated by having participants nominate liked-most and liked-least peers. Perceived popularity

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indicates social reputation and impact gauged by asking participants to designate the “popular” peers in their grade (Cillessen & Mayeux, 2001). 6 Resource control groups are defined using the following criteria: Among agemates, prosocial controllers score in the top tertile (33%; i.e., high) of users of prosocial resource control strategies, and the bottom two tertiles (66%; i.e., average or low) of users of coercive resource control strategies. Coercive controllers score in the top tertile of users of coercive strategies and the bottom two tertiles of users of prosocial strategies. Bistrategic controllers score in the top tertile of both prosocial and coercive strategy use. Noncontrollers score in the lowest tertile on both prosocial and coercive strategy use (these children are generally unassertive, socially unskilled, and receive low regard from peers). Those who do not fall into any of these four groups are classified as typical controllers—the largest group. 7 For example, the Olweus Bullying Prevention Program (OBPP) provides a model which is based on 35 years of research that has been conducted worldwide (see Olweus, 1993 for a review). The goal of the OBPP is to reduce and prevent bullying though a system-wide approach that addresses problem behaviors at the school, individual, classroom, and community levels.

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Thurlow, C. (2001a). The usual suspects? A comparative investigation of crowds and social-type labeling among young British teenagers. Journal of Youth Studies, 4, 319–334. Thurlow, C. (2001b). Naming the “outsider within”: Homophobic pejoratives and the verbal abuse of lesbian, gay and bisexual high-school pupils. Journal of Adolescence, 24, 25–38. Tremblay, R. E., Nagin, D. S., Seguin, J. R., Zoccolillo, M., Zelazo, P. D., Boivin, M., et al. (2004). Physical aggression during early childhood: Trajectories and predictors. Pediatrics, 114, e43–e50. Underwood, M. K. (2003). Social aggression among girls. New York: Guilford. Underwood, M. K., Galen, B. R., & Paquette, J. A. (2001). Top ten challenges for understanding aggression and gender: Why can’t we all just get along? Social Development, 10, 248–266. Vaillancourt, T., Miller, J. L., Fagbemi, J., Côté, S., & Tremblay, R. E. (2007). Trajectories and predictors of indirect aggression: Results from a nationally representative longitudinal study of Canadian children aged 2–10. Aggressive Behavior, 33, 314–326. Vaughn, B. E., & Santos, A. J. (2007). An evolutionary/ecological account of aggressive behavior and trait aggression in human children and adolescents. In P. H. Hawley, T. D. Little, & P. C. Rodkin (Eds.), Aggression and adaptation: The bright side to bad behavior (pp. 31–63). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Vaughn, B. E., Vollenweider, M., Bost, K. K., Azria-Evans, M. R., & Snider, J. B. (2003). Negative interactions and social competence for preschool children in two samples: Reconsidering the interpretation of aggressive behavior for young children. Merrill-Palmer Quarterly, 49, 245–278. Werner, N. E., & Crick, N. R. (1999). Relational aggression and social-psychological adjustment in a college sample. Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 108, 615–623. Wiemann, J. M. (1977). Explication and test of a model of communicative competence. Human Communication Research, 3, 195–213. Willer, E. K. (2009). Experimentally testing a narrative sense-making metaphor intervention: Facilitating communicative coping about social aggression with adolescent girls. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Nebraska–Lincoln, Lincoln. Willer, E. K., & Cupach, W. R. (2008). When “sugar and spice” turn to “fire and ice”: Factors affecting the adverse consequences of relational aggression among adolescent girls. Communication Studies, 59, 415–429. Willer, E. K., & Soliz, J. (in press). Face needs, intragroup status, and women’s reactions to socially aggressive face threats. Personal Relationships. Williams, K., Chambers, M., Logan, S., & Robinson, D. (1996). Association of common health symptoms with bullying in primary school children. British Medical Journal, 313, 17–19. Williams, K. D. (2001). Ostracism: The power of silence. New York: Guilford. Worchel, S., Iuzzini, J., Coutant, D., & Ivaldi, M. (2000). A multidimensional model of identity: Relating individual and group identities to intergroup behavior. In D. Capozza & R. Brown (Eds.), Social identity processes (pp. 15–32). London: Sage. Xie, H., Cairns, R. B., & Cairns, B. D. (2002). The development of social and physical aggression: A narrative analysis of interpersonal conflicts. Aggressive Behavior, 5, 341–355. Zapf, D., & Einarsen, S. (2005). Mobbing at work: Escalated conflicts in organizations. In S. Fox & P. E. Spector (Eds.), Counterproductive work behavior: Investigations of actors and targets (pp. 237–270). Washington, DC: American Psychological Association.

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Intimate Partner Violence and Aggression: Seeing the Light in a Dark Place Brian H. Spitzberg

Few topics are so perfectly poised for examination through the lens of the dark side as intimate partner violence and aggression. Not only has there been extensive focus of research on the topic, but the very extremity suggested by the terms seems to recommend a consideration of their darker implications. The dark side perspective, however, requires a recognition that darkness is in large part defined by its relationship to the brightness, and a comprehensive understanding of the phenomena of violence and aggression require a recognition of both their normative and functional aspects. Such a recognition may well trespass on sacred shibboleths and ideological commitments of entrenched interests, and from a dark side perspective, this is precisely one of the values of such an inquiry. This analysis will proceed by proposing a set of arguments that specify the nature, scope, function, and effects of intimate partner violence. In the process, the intent is to dethrone a number of myths concerning intimate partner violence, and replace these myths with more theoretically useful maxims. A reconfiguration of concepts is proffered as a starting point for theoretically modeling intimate partner violence. A set of recommendations is finally provided to guide future research and theory in this area. This chapter and others (Spitzberg, 2009, 2010) have benefited from a number of excellent reviews (e.g., Barnett, Miller-Perrin, & Perrin, 1997; Dutton, 2007a, 2007b; Dutton & Nicholls, 2005; Dutton, Nicholls, & Spidel, 2005;

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Felson, 2002; Holtzworth-Munroe, Bates, Smutzler, & Sandin, 1997; Tedeschi & Felson, 1994; Vézina & Hébert, 2007) and compendia (e.g., Arriaga & Oskamp, 1999; Bergen, 1998; Cahn & Lloyd, 1996; Dobash & Dobash, 1998; Harway & O’Neil, 1999; Jasinski & Williams, 1998; Klein, 1998; O’Leary & Maiuro, 2001), regardless of whether or not these authors and editors would concur with the conclusions reached in this chapter. What follows is necessarily an abbreviated synthesis of the relevant research.

THE NATURE OF INTIMATE PARTNER VIOLENCE AND AGGRESSION Violence seems to be an almost violently contested term (see Kilpatrick, 2004; Tjaden, 2004). Violence is defined here as any behavior intended to inflict physical harm (Sugarman & Hotaling, 1989). Intimate partner violence (IPV) is therefore any behavior intended to inflict physical harm on someone in an ongoing interdependent or close relationship with the perpetrator. This definition glosses over a lot of territory (see, e.g., Parrott & Giancola, 2007). For example, threats are behaviors that often imply potential physical harm, but they often are not actually intended to be implemented. The harm is not necessarily directed at another party, given that suicide is clearly a form of violence. Neglect can have many of the same effects as violence, but may not be intended to harm. Criticizing a child’s weight or eating habits may function to produce harm in the reinforcement of eating disorders, but it may be intended to help the child rather than harm. There are clear problems with any definition of violence that attempts to encompass such instances, and yet still is intended to be theoretically useful. One of the most problematic features of such a definition is the concept of intent. Intent is inherently subjective, rarely actually operationalized or measured, and subject to differences in perspective of those involved in its interpretation (Spitzberg, 2010). The intentionality of harm is sometimes used to distinguish violence from the related term aggression. For the purpose of this analysis, violence is considered a subset of the concept of aggression, which is defined as any behavior that intends any kind of harm, whether symbolic or physical, direct or indirect, psychological or emotional (Kinney, 1994; Leets & Giles, 1999). Kicking a sofa or throwing a plate at a wall during an argument may not intend physical harm to the combatant, but it may well intend psychological harm. This intentionality distinction may clarify the conceptual waters somewhat, but it still creates spaces for theoretical and empirical problems (Puyat, 2001), such as actions that intend good but cause harm, including some forms of communicative aggression (e.g., Dailey, Lee & Spitzberg, 2007) or paradoxical communication (Le Poire, Hallett, & Giles, 1998). It also potentially excludes a number of actions that may not intend harm per

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se, but have deleterious effects. For example, Vangelisti’s (2007) research finds that informative statements (e.g., “I don’t love you anymore”), which are probably intended for reasons relatively independent of intended harm, tend to be more hurtful than insults and criticisms, which clearly are intended to harm. These musings point out that there is a domain of harmful and hurtful behaviors that is largely symbolic, and in particular, verbal or iconic (e.g., the silent treatment) in nature. Some scholars have used the term “verbal violence” or “psychological violence” to designate such behavior in the hope of including such behavior under the umbrella of violence (e.g., Kilpatrick, 2004; see also the National Institute of Justice, 2009). With apologies for the choice of words, such terms do violence to the meaning of the word violence. There are at least four reasons to sever the terms “verbal” or “communicative” aggression from their pairing with “violence.” First, from a policy and legal perspective, given a recognition of a pre-eminent freedom of speech, symbolic activities enjoy a privileged protected status in many cultures and societies. We do not flinch at the prospect of arresting a person for physical violence, but we experience considerable cultural anxiety over arresting a person for disorderly conduct, offensive artistic or political expressions, or interpersonal or familial communications. It is a very slippery slope to equate “physical” and “verbal” forms of aggression in a society that values freedom of speech. Second, physical assault or violence involves contact (e.g., slapping) or lack of contact (e.g., neglect or isolation) that is involuntarily experienced by the autonomic nervous system of the target of such behavior. In contrast, verbal or communicative actions are interpretively mediated by the meaning systems of the target, and bear no necessary linkage of the action to the harm. “Sticks and stones may break bones,” but words do not. Third, verbal aggression is ubiquitous, whereas physical violence, at least in intimate contexts, is common but not universal. For example, in one largescale study of adolescents and young adults, 93 to 95% admitted to using or being the target of verbal aggression, whereas 31% to 42% reported using or being the target of physical violence (Muñoz-Rivas, Graña, O’Leary, & Gonzáez, 2007). Testa and Leonard (2001) found that within the first year of marriage, 91 to 98% of newlyweds reported at least one act of verbal aggression. Harned (2001) found between 82 and 87% of college students reported at least one experience of psychological abuse in a dating relationship. Jenkins and Aubé (2002) found rates between 97 and 100% for experiencing and perpetrating psychological aggression in a sample of university students reporting on their dating relationships. In a three-year longitudinal study of newlywed couples, Frye and Karney (2006) found that “98% of husbands and 96% of wives reported engaging in at least one psychologically aggressive behavior” (p. 16). To expand the term “violence” to something that is so common risks dilution of focus and importance.

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Fourth, however, even though it is common, research increasingly indicates that the degrees and characteristics of psychological abuse and communicative aggression are more harmful in their effects on quality of life than most intimate partner violence (e.g., Dailey et al., 2007; Mechanic, Weaver, & Resick, 2008; Taft, Vogt, Mechanic, & Resick, 2007; Zlotnick, Johnson, & Kohn, 2006; for review, see Spitzberg, 2009, 2010; cf. Babcock, Roseman, Green, & Ross, 2008). Indeed, emotional abuse is a better predictor of women leaving an abusive relationship than is physical abuse (Gortner, Berns, Jacobson, & Gottman, 1997). Given its unique theoretical and empirical role, it is important to consider “violence” and “communicative aggression” conceptually distinct phenomena, and it seems easier to maintain their conceptual difference by severing their common referential base of “violence.” Therefore, for the purposes of this chapter, communicative aggression (CA) is defined as any “recurring set of messages not involving physical contact that function to impair a person’s enduring preferred self-image” (Dailey et al., 2007, p. 303). This definition does not rely on attributions of intentionality, it is both process-oriented (i.e., recurring messages) and effects-oriented (i.e., impaired preferred self-image), and preserves a meaningful distinction between what counts as “violence” and what counts as “verbal aggression.” CA would include stalking, which is generally defined as an unwanted pattern of behaviors (e.g., pursuit, intrusion, harassment, or threats) that evoke fear in the victim or would evoke fear in a ‘reasonable person’ and serve no alternative legitimate purpose (see Cupach & Spitzberg, 2004). Certain subtle forms of aggression, such as an emotionally cold embrace, might be excluded from both terms, violence and CA, so there are still definitional issues to be resolved. Such definitional distinctions are vital for scholars, but it is also important to understand the ways in which social actors interpret the nature of violence as well. It is clear that IPV is a culturally ambivalent social construction. For example, a slap or punch might be relatively consensually considered forms of violence, but as much as a fifth of people do not consider a “grab” as a type of abuse (Hamby & Gray-Little, 2000). Despite the distinction above between violence and communicative aggression, approximately a quarter to a half of people seem to think that insults constitute domestic violence, and as many as 45 to 48% think that a man following a woman around town constitutes domestic violence (Carlson & Worden, 2005; Nabors, Dietz, & Jasinski, 2006). That various forms of violence are given distinct labels with the intent of distinguishing them from “violence” is obvious. Cultures vary considerably in their conceptions of terms of abuse (Van Oudenhoven et al., 2008). Laypersons differ from mental health professionals in their perception of the severity, nature, and contextual factors influencing “psychological abuse” (Follingstad, Helff, Binford, Runge, & White, 2004). Most people in most cultures consider “spanking” a child an appropriate form of corporal

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punishment rather than a form of violence (Bograd, 1988). The term selfdefense is often used to excuse acts that under a different interpretive frame would clearly be considered forms of violence (Foo & Margolin, 1995). Across a variety of social contexts, acts that involve violence are differentially considered criminal acts (Johnson & Sigler, 1996; Mihalic & Elliott, 1997), even by the victims of such acts (e.g., rape: Koss, 1992; stalking: Tjaden, Thoennes, & Allison, 2000). In one study, only 40% of men and women experiencing physical or sexual abuse in their relationships considered their relationships to be “abusive” (Stets & Pirog-Good, 1989). If the perception of violence is to some degree a social construction, it is not surprising that different perceivers possess distinct interpretations of its nature. That is, IPV is perceived differently based on locus of perspective. Research continues to demonstrate that violence perpetrated by a male against a female is evaluated more harshly than the reverse (Harris, 1991; Harris & Knight-Bohnhoff, 1996). Violence perpetrated by a male against a female is perceived as more coercive than violence perpetrated against a male by a female (Hamel, Desmarais, & Nicholls, 2007). Females appear to evaluate their own uses of violence as more appropriate than males view their own violence (Astin, Redston, & Campbell, 2003). Males view IPV as less serious than females (Miller & Bukva, 2001). One study found that men perceived no difference between the rates at which they and their female partners were hurt, but women perceived they were hurt 2.75 times more often than the male partners (Brush, 1990). There is considerable discrepancy in couple meta-perceptions and reports of IPV (e.g., Caetano, Schafer, Field, & Nelson, 2002; Dobash, Dobash, Cavanagh, & Lewis, 1998). Across a variety of studies, rates of mutual concurrence regarding the occurrence of violent acts in the relationship ranged from lows of close to 0% to highs of 50% (Armstrong, Wernke, Medina, & Schafer, 2002; Hanley & O’Neill, 1997; Jouriles & O’Leary, 1985; Langhinrichsen-Rohling & Vivian, 1994; Margolin, 1987; Schluter, Paterson, & Feehan, 2006; Simpson & Christensen, 2005; Szinovacz & Egley, 1995), although some studies have found higher rates (Fals-Stewart, Birchler, & Kelley, 2003). Estimates of the experience of IPV range from 10% to 60% across couples in terms of mutual hitting, pushing, or shoving (Arriaga & Oskamp, 1999; Coker, Smith, McKeown, & King, 2000; Gortner et al., 1997; McCarroll, Ursano, Fan, & Newby, 2004; Stark & Flitcraft, 1988). Other research finds that concurrence rates are sensitive to the extent to which fine-grained distinctions are made regarding the episodes of violence being recalled (e.g., Testa, Quigley, & Leonard, 2003). Studies that examine simple correlations across partners’ meta-reports of violence find that the correlations are far from unity, ranging from 0.37 to 0.62 (Gortner et al., 1997; Moffitt et al., 1997; Ready, Clark, Watson, & Westerhouse, 2000). Some scholars have suggested that women accurately report whereas men

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underreport due to self-serving biases, or that women underreport due to fear of partner reprisal (Armstrong et al., 2001), and some research supports such an interpretation (Schluter et al., 2006). In a detailed analysis of such biases, Langhinrichsen-Rohling and Vivian (1994) found that although most of the discrepancies were due to underreporting by the perpetrator, “a surprisingly large amount of incongruence resulted from the perpetrator over-reporting his or her level compared to the victim’s report” (p. 279). In their study, “35% of the incongruent aggressive husbands and 43% of the incongruent aggressive wives were classified as over-reporters in comparison with their spouses’ report” (p. 279). Intimate partner violence is a socially and culturally constructed phenomenon, and may be relationally negotiated and individually reinterpreted in variable ways that mitigate against simple definitions or understandings of the core concept. Neither interactants nor researchers find much agreement on what counts as violence, when it occurs, how much it occurs, and what its meanings are. In short, there is a lot of darkness to explore. Some behaviors and acts are likely to garner greater agreement than others, and many conclusions will stay on safer ground to the extent that such exemplars remain the focus of concern.

THE SCOPE AND PREVALENCE OF IPV If there is a lack of consensus regarding the very nature of intimate partner violence, then there is also likely to be debate regarding the extent of IPV in society. The statistics do not disappoint in this regard. Several large-scale studies have been performed on adolescent age cohorts in the United States. One study of adolescents and young adults (N = 2,416) in reference to dating relationships indicated that 37% of women and 31% of men had been victims of physical violence, and 42% of women and 32% of men reported using physical violence (Muñoz-Rivas et al., 2007). A study of Los Angeles high school students (N = 939) showed that 45.5% of females and 43.2% of males had experienced dating violence (O’Keefe & Treister, 1998). Another largescale study (Coker, McKeown et al., 2000) of high school students (N = 5,414) found rates of severe dating violence in the past 12 months for victim only (females = 5.5%; males = 3.0%), perpetrator only (females = 4.7%; males = 3.8%), and victim and perpetrator (females = 4.2%; males = 2.3%). A nationally representative longitudinal study (Roberts, Auinger, & Klein, 2006) of adolescent dating relationships (N = 4,441) provided similar estimates of prevalence for males and females in their experience of both communicative aggression (males: 21%; females: 23%) and physical violence (males: 8%; females: 9%). A nationally representative study of dating violence among adolescents (N = 3,614) found a prevalence rate for “serious dating

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violence” (i.e., physical assault, sexual assault, drug/alcohol-facilitated rape) of 1.6% for respondents aged 12–17 (Wolitzky-Taylor et al., 2008). A study of 14,956 high school students found that in the past 12 months, 8.9% of males and 8.8% of females said “yes” to the question “During the past 12 months, did your boyfriend or girlfriend ever hit, slap, or physically hurt you on purpose?” (Black, Noonan, & Legg, 2006). These operationalizations are often different, and may account for some of the differences in prevalence rates, but clearly there are wide variations in estimates. Such variations show up in adult samples as well (Jones et al., 1999). In a nationally representative sample of 1,635 couples, 87% reported no violence in their relationship, 8% reported mutual violence, 4% reported male-only initiated violence, and 2% reported female-only initiated violence (Caetano, Vaeth, & Ramisetty-Mikler, 2008). A nationally representative survey of women (N = 1,800) indicated a 23% lifetime prevalence of physical assault by a partner (Moracco, Runyan, Bowling, & Earp, 2007). In a populationbased study in North Carolina (N = 281), 18% reported experiencing any battering, physical assault, or sexual assault by an intimate partner (Smith, Thornton, DeVellis, Earp, & Coker, 2002). One of the largest studies in the United States (N = 16,000) indicated that lifetime prevalence of violence by a current or former partner revealed fairly consistent sex differences: 0.2% of men and 4.5% of women experienced forcible rape, 7.0% of men and 20.4% of women experienced physical assault, and 0.5% of men and 4.1% of women experienced stalking (Tjaden & Thoennes, 2000). Crime surveys in the United States, representing as many as 149,000 individuals interviewed in 2004 alone, show that between 1993 and 2004, 22% of all nonfatal violent victimizations of females were at the hands of an intimate partner, whereas only 3% of such victimizations of males were from an intimate partner (Catalano, 2006). The overall rate of IPV for those 12 and older was four female victims per 1,000 persons, and approximately one male victim per 1,000 persons (Catalano, 2006). A representative study of 1,615 dual-parent households identified a rate of “any” IPV of 21.45% (McDonald, Jouriles, Ramisetty-Mikler, Caetano, & Green, 2006). Across a variety of large-scale “surveillance” estimates, past-year IPV rates in the United States range from about 1% to 21.5% (Lipsky & Caetano, 2009). Studies continue to indicate that rates of intimate partner victimization, and intimate homicide, are decreasing, especially among female victims (Billingham, Bland, & Leary, 1999; Catalano, 2006; McCarroll et al., 2004). In estimating the prevalence of “violence,” it is important to emphasize an often overlooked empirical statement: In proportional terms, IPV is rarely severe. Among the many reasons elucidated why “violence” is a problematic term include its ability to mask a number of important distinctions. One of these distinctions is the severity of violence. A “push” is not the same as a “hit,” and a hit is not the same as being strangled. Brandishing a weapon might be

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considered a form of violence, but it clearly is not the same as using the weapon to inflict harm. Violence may occur in many forms (e.g., push, shove, grab, restraint) and not leave any evidence of having happened (i.e., in the form of bruises, cuts, or broken bones). Across the continuum of violence lies a vast expanse of human actions, and when the more severe end of this continuum is examined separately, it represents a relatively small minority of the breadth of IPV experiences. In the nationally representative study of 16,000 U.S. adults, lifetime physical assault victimization by an intimate partner was 22.1% for women and 7.4% for men (Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998). The most common types of violence for women and men were “pushed, grabbed, shoved” (18.1% vs. 5.4%, respectively), “slapped, hit” (16.0% vs. 5.5%), and “threw something” (8.1% vs. 4.4%). The more serious types of violence, such as “choked, tried to drown” (6.1% vs. 0.5%), “hit with object” (5.0% vs. 3.2%), “beat up” (8.5% vs. 0.6%), “threatened with gun” (3.5% vs. 0.4%), “threatened with knife” (2.8% vs. 1.6%), “used gun” (0.7% vs. 0.1%), and “used knife” (0.9% vs. 0.8%), while disturbing, clearly represent smaller percentages of the total. In a representative study of adolescents’ use of IPV, Muñoz-Rivas et al. (2007) found that “the most severe acts were practically non-existent, and the presence did not exceed 2.0% in the sample” (p. 301). In their study of over 20,000 cases of emotional or physical abuse in the U.S. Army, McCarroll et al. (2004) classified 7% of males and 10% of females as experiencing “severe violence.” There are estimates of other forms of interpersonal aggression (Lipsky & Caetano, 2009), including stalking (Basile, Swahn, Chen, & Saltzman, 2006; Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007; Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998), sexual assault (McCauley et al., 2009), sexual coercion (Spitzberg, 1999), online harassment (Wolak, Mitchell, & Finkelhor, 2007), bullying (Due, Holstein, & Soc, 2008; Spriggs, Iannotti, Nansel, & Haynie, 2007), and psychological abuse (Chang, Theodore, Martin, & Runyan, 2008). It seems likely that these other forms of misbehavior are often interrelated to one another. It also seems reasonable to suggest that intimate aggression, in one form or another, is a relatively common experience in society, and a relatively high probability for any given person across that person’s lifetime. Some types of aggression are not only normal, but normative—that is, perceived as relatively acceptable, legitimate, or appropriate in context. To understand the normal and normative aspects of IPV, it is important to consider the functions it serves in relationships.

THE FUNCTIONS OF IPV To a large extent, the question of function asks “what does a phenomenon do?” or “what is it about?” A common assumption is that intimate violence is

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about power. The claim that intimate violence is about power tends to be tethered to two closely associated claims—intimate violence is gendered, and it is a function of the individual perpetrator. The function of IPV is often presumed to be one of establishing and maintaining patriarchy or dominance. These are deep waters to plumb, but must be addressed if any progress is to be made in fully understanding the role of violence in relationships. A series of alternative counter-claims is proposed as substitutes for assumptions about the functions of power and gender in IPV. The deconstruction will establish a cleaner slate for a proposed reconfiguration of IPV and its functions.

IPV, GENDER, AND POWER Intimate partner violence rarely is exclusively about power or gender. Gender here can be considered in both its common meanings—biological sex and psychological identity. Most research, however, has examined gender in terms of biological sex. When considered as a sex difference, gender is ambivalently related to IPV, in a variety of ways. First, often overlooked in discussions of intimate partner violence is that throughout society, men are far more likely than women to be victims of violence (Catalano, 2006; Graham et al., 2006; McLeod, 1984). Males are generally more violent than females, and therefore are victimized by both males and females. Males in general experience an entire developmental trajectory typified by greater acculturation to violence compared to females (Moffitt, Caspi, Rutter, & Silva, 2001), so it would be surprising if they did not both engage in and experience exposure to higher rates of violence than females. Second, when using standard self-report survey techniques of couple violence, there is extensive evidence indicating that compared to males, females use approximately equal, or greater, amounts of violence in their intimate relationships (Archer, 2000, 2002; Burke, Stets, & Pirog-Good, 1988; Coker, McKeown et al., 2000; Jenkins & Aubé, 2002; Jezl, Molidor, & Wright, 1996; Katz, Kuffel, & Coblentz, 2002; Laroche, 2005; Magdol et al., 1997; Sellers & Bromley, 1996; Stets & Burke, 2005; Stets & Henderson, 1991; see Richardson & Hammock, 2007, for review). The sheer amount of research bearing out this parity is convincing. Fiebert (2004) summarizes results from 126 studies and 29 reviews, concluding that “women are as physically aggressive, or more aggressive, than men in their relationships with their spouses or male partners” (p. 140). Similarly, Straus (2006) concludes that “there are more than 150 studies showing equal or higher rates of assault by women, and this now includes results showing approximately equal rates of assault against dating partners by university students at 68 universities in 32 countries” (p. 1086).

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Third, although females are more likely than males to be physically injured by IPV, differences may not be as substantial as commonly assumed (Bethke & DeJoy, 1993; Browne, 1993; Catalano, 2006; Dobash, Dobash, Wilson, & Daly, 1992; Graham et al., 2006; Laroche, 2005; Muñoz-Rivas et al., 2007; Phelan et al., 2005; Sorenson, Upchurch, & Shen, 1996; Tjaden & Thoennes, 2000). In fact, there is evidence from several studies indicating relative parity of injuries. Magdol et al. (1997) found that about 13% of women reported “severe physical violence victimization,” compared to 21% of men. Several studies have found no difference between men and women in the severity of violence experienced or injury rates (Capaldi & Owen, 2001; Jenkins & Aubé, 2002; Marcus & Swett, 2002). Williams and Frieze (2005) analyzed a nationally representative data set and found that slightly more women (1.6%) than men (0.9%) reported perpetrating “severe violence.” Felson and Cares (2005) reanalyzed the National Violence Against Women (NVAW) survey data and concluded that “Men are more likely than women to produce minor injuries, but they are not particularly likely to produce severe injuries. Women are more likely than men to suffer minor injuries, but men are more likely to suffer serious injuries” (p. 1189). In contrast, Mize and Shackelford (2008) found that women appear to commit more brutal homicides against their intimate partners than men commit against their intimate partners. Fourth, although females are more likely than males to be psychologically traumatized by IPV, differences may not be as substantial as commonly assumed. Compared to men, women’s relational satisfaction (Katz, Kuffel et al., 2002; Williams & Frieze, 2005) and psychological health (Breslau & Anthony, 2007; Vivian & Langhinrichsen-Rohling, 1994) appear more vulnerable to IPV. Much research, however, examines only female victims (e.g., Basile, Arias, Desai, & Thompson, 2004), making comparisons difficult. When covariates are controlled across the sexes, data reveal that any differential sex-based trauma reactivity to IPV is based on prior exposure risks rather than the sex of the victim. That is, “once lifetime exposure to aggressive events was adequately taken into account . . . Women’s symptoms were not significantly more elevated than men’s symptoms on any outcome” (Pimlott-Kubiak & Cortina, 2003, p. 535). Similar findings arise in regard to depression and anxiety symptoms (Lawrence, Yoon, Langer, & Ro, 2009; cf. Caetano et al., 2008), and for the traumatizing effects of childhood sexual abuse (Dube et al., 2005). Fifth, self-defense accounts for a relatively little amount of IPV overall, and fails to substantially account for gender differences in IPV. A common excuse for the relative gender parity in IPV use and effects is that women use violence in selfdefense more than men. The evidence, however, indicates that self-defense, although it does occur as an attribution for IPV, is hardly a dominant or entirely gendered interpretation. Makepeace (1986) found that 18% of males, compared to 36% of females, claimed self-defense for their IPV.

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Cascardi and Vivian (1995) found 20% of females, compared to 0% of males, claimed self-defense. Follingstad, Wright, Lloyd, and Sebastian (1991) found no differences in self-defense explanations between male (4.1%) and female (4.8%) victims, or male (17.7%) and female (18.6%) perpetrators, although clearly the locus of action revealed a difference. Mouradian (2001) found that 4% of males and 9% of females claimed self-defense for their IPV. Harned (2001) found that 42% of women and 56% of men claimed self-defense as a motive. Sarantakos (2004) did find that 47% of wives claimed self-defense, although many of these recanted upon triangulating other family members’ views, such that only 13% persisted in this attribution. Vatnar and Bjørkly (2008) found that 30% of women in IPV relationships felt responsible for the violence, and almost half thought they could have prevented it. The relatively small percentages of self-defense attributions, along with a relative lack of sex differences in dominance as a predictor of IPV in data across 32 nations, led Straus (2008) to conclude that “self-defense explains only a small percentage of violence by either men or women” (p. 268). Swan, Gambone, and Fields (2005) concluded from their investigation of an ethnically diverse community sample that “women’s motivations for their behaviors were complex and indicated that violence was often multiply determined by different motivations. Many women used violence in self defense, but many also used violence to control their partners” (p. 18). In a representative sample of adolescents, Muñoz-Rivas et al. (2007) found that 6.6% of women indicated a motive for their IPV as “my partner attacked me first and I responded,” whereas 13.0% of men claimed this motive for their own IPV. Sixth, there is relative gender parity in the initiation of IPV. A study by Gryl, Stith, and Bird (1991) asked people to indicate who initiated the violence in their dating relationships: 51% claimed their partner, 41% claimed themselves, and 8% thought it was mutual. In a study of high school students who reported experiencing dating violence, between 41 and 48% considered themselves equally responsible for initiating the violence (O’Keefe & Treister, 1998). Kwong, Bartholomew, and Dutton (1999) asked both men and women reporting violence in their relationships who initiated it. Among males, 49% claimed initiation, with 35% attributed to their partner and 14% considered mutual. Among females, 67% claimed initiation, with 27% attributed to partner and 6% considered mutual. In contrast, in a small qualitative study, Olson (2002) found no difference between males and females, with 43% of participants claiming their partner initiated the violence. Gondolf and Beeman (2003) found that 50% of domestic violence events were viewed as initiated by the male, and only 5% of the first-assault attributed to the female. In a small sample, Sarantakos (2004) found that the wife delivered the first strike 72% of the time (with even larger percentages reporting that the wife delivered the “last blow”). In an analysis of 20,959 cases of physical or emotional abuse in the U.S. Army between 1998

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and 2002, McCarroll et al. (2004) estimated a 42% rate of mutuality (39% same day, 3% different day). Seventh, IPV is far more reciprocal than unilateral. If females often initiate violence, and if self-defense is rarely the motive for their violence, then the relative parity in the rates of IPV reported among men and women would suggest that it is a relatively reciprocal phenomenon. Indeed, I hypothesize that the single best predictor of whether or not a person has experienced IPV in a given relationship is whether that person’s partner has engaged in IPV in that relationship. Rates of “mutual” IPV, or in which a person claims to have been both perpetrator and victim, range from lows of 40–60% (e.g., Billingham & Sack, 1986; Caetano, Ramisetty-Mikler, & Field, 2005; Forgey & Badger, 2006; Katz, Kuffel et al., 2002; Magdol et al., 1997; McCarroll et al., 2004; O’Keefe & Treiste, 1998; Riggs, 1993; Williams & Frieze, 2005) to rates between 60–80% (e.g., Henton, Cate, Koval, Lloyd, & Christopher, 1983; Kessler, Mohnar, Feurer, & Appelbaum, 2001; Kwong et al., 1999; Magdol et al., 1997; Sigelman, Berry, & Wiles, 1984). Another metric of reciprocity would be the correlation between one partner’s report of violence and the other partner’s report of violence. Such correlations range between 0.50 to 0.75 across a variety of studies (e.g., Bookwala, Frieze, Smith, & Ryan, 1992; Henton et al., 1983; Hughes, Stuart, Gordon, & Moore, 2007; Luthra & Gidycz, 2006; McCarroll et al., 2004; Rosen, Parmley, Knudson, & Fancher, 2002; Straus & Sweet, 1992; White & Koss, 1991), although a meta-analysis found a more moderate correlation of 0.41 between being violent toward partner and experience of IPV (Stith, Smith, Penn, Ward, & Tritt, 2004). This was the second largest effect of 26 variables predicting female victimization, second only to the experience of emotional/verbal abuse (r = 0.49). Archer’s (2000) meta-analysis found the raw correlation between proportion of men and women experiencing IPV of 0.81, which “would be expected on the basis of the finding that physical aggression between partners tends to be reciprocal” (p. 660). Eighth, although IPV is typically a form of power, it is rarely about power. The presumption that IPV, particularly by males, is about power is common and deeply seated in the public consciousness (e.g., Cavanagh, Dobash, Dobash, & Lewis, 2001; Emery & Lloyd, 1994). This assumption is particularly common in feminist perspectives toward IPV, in which power and patriarchy are considered closely connected. There is little doubt that violence is often an effort, at some level or another, to obtain some form of influence on another person. This is quite a different claim, however, than the theoretical presupposition that “power” is the terminal objective of the violence. Violence, in other words, may always be a means of power, but is not necessarily a means to power. Any serious effort to understand a phenomenon, therefore, must begin by asking both the means and ends of a set of actions. There are several reasons why IPV is not intrinsically about power.

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If IPV is about power, and power is patriarchal, then the extent of same-sex IPV is theoretically anomalous. Research indicates that same-sex relationships tend to have rates of violence similar to, or higher than, heterosexual relationships (e.g., Burke & Follingstad, 1999; Letellier, 1994; Lie, Schilit, Bush, Montagne, & Reyes, 1991; Lloyd & Emery, 2000; Lockhart, White, Causby, & Isaac 1994; Moracco et al., 2007; Renzetti, 1992; Tjaden, Thoennes, & Allison, 1999; Waldner-Haugrud, Gratch, & Magruder, 1997). Indeed, homosexual homicides appear more brutal than heterosexual intimate homicides, although lesbian intimate homicides appear the least brutal (Mize & Shackelford, 2008). Given the mixed gender ideologies and gendered preferences likely to typify such relationships, it is difficult to account for the violence through a lens of patriarchal dominance. Studies that examine power motives or controlling tendencies tend to show that it operates similarly across sexes in its relationship to IPV. Some studies have attempted to measure power motivations directly, and these studies tend to find that it shows modest relationships to the experience or perpetration of IPV, and that these relationships tend not to vary substantially across males and females (e.g., Caetano et al., 2008; Ehrensaft, LanghinrichsenRohling, Heyman, O’Leary, & Lawrence, 1999; Kaura & Allen, 2004; O’Leary, Smith, Slep, & O’Leary, 2007; Riggs, O’Leary, & Breslin, 1990; Winstock, 2006). For example, in a study of high school students, a measure of interpersonal control correlated with inflicting violence only 0.26 for males and 0.30 for females (O’Keefe & Treister, 1998). It is important to note, also, that “need for power” can also be understood in terms of “being in a powerdisadvantaged position.” Some research has found that men who have engaged in IPV often feel outmatched, lacking in power, or possessing less decision-making influence than the female partner (e.g., Sagrestano, Heavey, & Christinsen, 1999). Studies of male-dominated, female-dominated and egalitarian relationships also tend to produce equivocal results in terms of both relationship to IPV and consistency of sex differences (e.g., Coleman & Straus, 1986; Hotaling & Sugarman, 1986; Leonard & Senchak, 1996). People who are “controlling” may be somewhat more prone to engage in IPV, but this does not appear to differ by gender (Felson & Outlaw, 2007; Straus, 2008). The increasing gender egalitarianism in developed countries may be leveling the playing field in the uses of violence, and this may help account for the relative gender parity in frequency of using IPV (Straus, 2008). When partners are asked to attribute motives to IPV in their relationships, power is not a dominant interpretive attribution. If victims’ voices are to be privileged at all in understanding the nature of IPV, then it is meaningful to ask them what the reasons were for the violence they experienced. Studies reveal a host of less control-oriented motives, including expressive action, self-esteem, face restoration, preservation, anger, upset, jealousy, to prove love, sexual arousal, to get attention, to get back at, rule violations, joking or play, and

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inability to regulate emotions (Arriaga, 2002; Follingstad et al., 1991; Gondolf & Beeman, 2003; Graham & Wells, 2002; Harned, 2001; Kernsmith, 2005; Mouradian, 2001; Muñoz-Rivas et al., 2007; O’Keefe & Treister, 1998; Olson & Lloyd, 2005; Swan et al., 2005; Taylor & Pittman, 2002). Most of these studies found little or no systematic differences between males and females in their self- or partner-attributions of these motives. These lists of motives are also suggestive of the circumplex dimensions of instrumental (i.e., status, or dominant–submissive) versus affective (i.e., affiliation, love–hate) domains, which would lend considerable empirical credence to the idea that IPV is multiply motivated, and is likely to be as expressive as it is instrumental (Babcock, Jacobson, Gottman, & Yerington, 2000; Campbell, Muncer, McManus, & Woodhouse, 1999; Hamel et al., 2007; Mack, 1989; McEllistrem, 2004; Meloy, 2002). The expressive domain of IPV is also suggested by its relationship to emotion regulation deficits (e.g., Babcock et al., 2000; Umberson, Williams, & Anderson, 2002). The collective evidence on what power is about indicates that it is a motivationally complex phenomenon, and that power is only one among many of the useful interpretive lenses through which IPV can be legitimately understood. Aside from the challenges of defining the meaning of power in a relationship, a more fundamental question arises: To what extent is power inherently a relational product? The challenge of viewing IPV as a product of the power motives of its perpetrator is illustrated by a particularly suggestive study. Follingstad, Rutledge, Polek, and McNeill-Hawkins (1988) concluded that “women with ongoing violence in a dating relationship report that they are more likely to allow control from the male and report stronger feelings of romantic love” (p. 180). If power is something “allowed” by a partner, then this places power in the possession of the person acted upon, which reveals the transitivity of power relations in any given context. This transitivity of power leads next into a consideration of the vagaries of power and IPV. Ninth, intimate partner violence is ambivalently motivated. When people are asked what or who initiated IPV, or what the motive or cause of the IPV was, the interpretive landscape reveals considerable variegation. It is relevant to recall that partners often cannot even agree on the occurrence of violence, so it seems unlikely that there will be a clear and unequivocal interpretation of the causes of violence. Follingstad et al. (1991) identified “to show anger,” “inability to express self verbally,” displaced anger, “to prove love,” “to get attention,” jealousy, and sexual arousal to be common attributions of victims to the perpetrator and the perpetrator’s own self-attributions. In addition, “to get control” and “to feel more powerful” represented substantial attributions of male (powerful: 20.4%; control: 26.5%) and female (powerful: 31.5%; control: 55.6%) victims, but less so for male (powerful: 0%; control: 8.3%) or female (powerful: 3.4%; control: 22%) perpetrators. Cascardi and

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Vivian (1995) found that anger/coercion and anger represented the modal attributions, ranging from 28% to 65% of such interpretations. In a study of female initiation of IPV, Fiebert and Gonzalez (1997) found insensitivity to needs (46%), gaining attention (44%), lack of partner listening (45%), and partner verbal abuse (38%) to be common attributions of motive. In this sample of college students, they also found a relatively common belief that violence would not hurt the partner, and that the male would not retaliate, which enabled female initiation of violence. O’Keefe and Treister (1998) found jealousy was the most common attribution for dating violence among high school students, followed by anger (ascribed more by females) and “to get back at” (ascribed more by males). Taylor and Pittman (2002) found that male and female college students did not differ in their control motives for their IPV. Muñoz-Rivas et al. (2007) found in a large study of adolescents that males and females respectively claimed playing/joking (34.0% vs. 38.0%), their own jealousy (22.2% vs. 24.4%,), being furious and attacking first (13.9% vs. 22.4%), partner attacking first (13.0% vs. 6.6%), argument (6.6% vs. 12.2%), and nervousness (8.5% vs. 8.9%) as motives for their physical aggression with their dating partner.

IPV AND RELATIONAL CONTEXT Such variations in violence motivation have led some scholars to posit that violence may serve an intimacy regulation function in relationships. For example, Lafontaine and Lussier (2005) found that attachment security interacted with sex in its effects on violence. They concluded that “the use of intimate violence by men is directly related to their tendency to reject attempts by their partner to get close to them, but the use of violence by women principally represents a dysfunctional attempt to keep the partner close” (p. 357). Such relationally oriented motives suggest the importance of the relational context, and implicitly redirect attention to the dynamics of the relationship. Tenth, in proportional terms, IPV is rarely chronic or repetitive. Another characteristic often masked in discussions of prevalence and scope of violence is the chronicity of the behavior. A common rhetorical icon of IPV is the “cycle of violence” and the battering males, who perpetrate violence on a regular basis, and seek sympathy from their partner in a “honeymoon” phase that seduces the woman back to the relationship, only to be victimized again. Furthermore, even if most IPV is relatively minor in severity, relatively minor forms of violence might be seriously distressing if they are chronic in their experience. If the image of a “batterer” seems to capture the public imagination, it does not seem to represent the majority of people engaging in IPV.

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This image of the “cycle of violence” is surprisingly unsupported by empirical evidence, and is most certainly not the norm. Studies are beginning to demonstrate that it is a myth to assume that “a partner who hits you once will hit you again.” Although trait aggression reveals some long-term stability (Huesmann, Eron, Lefkowitz, & Walder, 1984), the stresses acting upon people and relationships ebb and flow over time, as do the amounts of violence (Lawrence & Bradbury, 2007). Relationships evolve across different stages of interdependency and adaptation. Longitudinal studies reveal that a third (e.g., Fleury, Sullivan, & Bybee, 2000; Hilton, Carter, Harris, & Sharpe, 2008; Quigley & Leonard, 1996) to a half or more (e.g., Aldarondo & Sugarman, 1996; Caetano, Field, Ramisetty-Mikler, & McGrath, 2005; Campbell, Miller, Cardwell, & Belknap, 1994; Straus, 2001) of people violent in a Time 1 index event have ceased their violence by Times 2 or 3 of the study, with rates of “stably violent” persons often ranging well below 25% (e.g., Aldarondo, 1996; Hilton et al., 2008; McCarroll et al., 2000; Newby et al., 2000; O’Leary et al., 1989). In a sample of newlyweds, Testa and Leonard (2001) found 22% reported husband violence against the wife at both Times 1 and 2, over a year after marriage. Bassuk et al. (2001) found that only 2% of women claimed that violence occurred across all four time frames of their study. Even in samples of batterers, Jacobson, Gottman, Gortner, Berns, and Shortt (1996) found that 54% decreased their level of violence over time, and of those decreasing their level of violence, 86% decreased to the level of only one incident of violence in the previous year, typically pushing or shoving. In Tjaden and Thoennes’ (2000) representative study of 16,000 U.S. adults, “female physical assault victims averaged 6.9 assaults,” compared to males, who “reported 4.4 assaults by the same partner” (p. 39). Capaldi and Owen (2001) distinguished “frequently” from “infrequently” violent couples. The frequently violent couples represented 9–13% of the couples studied, and of the infrequently violent couples, the rate of violence averaged one or two physically aggressive acts per year. Longitudinal studies suggest that physical violence in relationships tends to decrease over time, even though communicative aggression may stay relatively stable (e.g., Lawrence & Bradbury, 2007; Timmons Fritz & O’Leary, 2004). These rates hardly suggest a “battering” relationship of constant assertion of power through violence. The data instead indicate that violence is generally ephemeral and epiphenomenal in relationships. Eleventh, IPV can be competent. In the United States, there has been a concerted effort to construct linguistic resources for referring to forms of violence that do not have to be referred to as “violence.” For example, in a survey of Canadians, 62% agreed with the statement “It’s not really pleasant, but parents have a duty to slap their children if it’s necessary,” and 42% agreed that “Some children need to be slapped so they will learn to behave themselves (i.e., learn good behavior)” (Gagné, Tourigny, Joly, & Pouliot-

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Lapointe, 2007, p. 1292). Capital and corporal punishment are proximally intended to cause harm to a person, yet they are classified differently. Selfdefense may involve harmful physical contact, yet it is interpreted in ways that are entirely more sympathetic than the violence of the initiator. These alternate terminologies of violence suggest that there are conditions in which violence is viewed as “having its place.” Research indicates that people generally disapprove of violence in general (Alzenman & Kelley, 1988; Cook, 1995) at rates above 95%. When presented with various scenarios, however, people often envision the appropriateness of violence. For example, slapping a partner is viewed by between 15–50% of people as appropriate in self-defense, in defense of a child, in response to being hit, and in response to a partner’s sexual infidelity (Arias & Johnson, 1989; Koski & Mangold, 1988; Simon et al., 2001; Yoshioka, DiNoia, & Ullah, 2001). People also see some justification for violence in being playful or seeking revenge (Arriaga, 2002; Cauffman, Feldman, Jensen, & Arnett, 2000; Muñoz-Rivas et al., 2007). Some research also indicates that as much as a third of those who experience violence consider it an indicator of the perpetrator’s love (Cate, Henton, Koval, Christopher, & Lloyd, 1982; Matthews, 1984; Sugarman & Hotaling, 1989). It is clear that people sometimes negotiate the role and value of violence in their relationships, considering IPV to have an appropriate place in the ongoing relationship (Olson, 2002). Lest the implication remain of a “12-step” deconstruction, a related and thirteenth claim rounds out the consideration of IPV functions: IPV is not necessarily relationally dissatisfying. Several studies demonstrate that there are substantial percentages of couples that have experienced violence and yet are more in love (Follingstad et al., 1988), “happy,” or satisfied (e.g., HoltzworthMunroe et al., 1992; O’Leary et al., 1989; Tonizzo, Howells, Day, Reidpath, & Froyland, 2000; Wells & Graham, 2003). One study found that 27% of participants in violent relationships rated their relationship as “excellent” (Williams & Frieze, 2005). Jacobson et al. (1996) found that IPV was uncorrelated with marital satisfaction, although psychological abuse was negatively correlated. Delsol, Margolin, and John (2003) conducted a typological study of maritally violent men. Although the more generally and medium-violent husbands were lower in marital satisfaction than nonviolent/nondistressed husbands, “family-only batterers” did not differ in marital satisfaction from either nonviolent/nondistressed husbands or from medium-violence batterers. Other studies simply find that satisfaction is unrelated to the occurrence or level of IPV (e.g., Frye & Karney, 2006). Indeed, a meta-analysis of studies linking marital satisfaction and IPV identified a small to moderate overall effect of –0.27, although the effect size is larger for victims than for perpetrators (Stith, Green, Smith, & Ward, 2008).

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THE EFFECTS OF IPV IPV is complexly defined and serves complex functions. It is hardly surprising therefore that IPV has complex effects. In order to consider the impact of IPV, it is important to establish a grammar for discussing such effects. An inductively generated typology of effects of stalking has been previously formulated, and is slightly adapted here to encompass IPV effects (Cupach & Spitzberg, 2004; Dutton & Spitzberg, 2007; Spitzberg, 2002; Spitzberg & Cupach, 2007). Figure 13.1 illustrates a working typology of potential effects of IPV. On the horizontal is the dimension of valence, in which the subjective or objective value of the violence is evaluated. Subjective valence would involve participant judgments of the outcomes or effects as positive or negative in reference to any of the referential domains identified. Objective valence refers to the extent to which any of the referential domains are made more or less viable in surviving or thriving according to indicators considered relevant to that domain.

Negative functions

1st-order effects

2nd-order effects

3rd-order effects

4th-order effects

Positive functions

Societal/resource Economic Social/relational Spiritual Behavioral Cognitive Affective Physiological General/holistic

Figure 13.1 Heuristic Typology of IPV Effects of Personal Relationships and Interaction

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As a salient “dark side” implication of the typology of IPV effects, it is worth noting that out of 250 studies on stalking and unwanted relationship pursuit, only two explicitly examined the prospect that victims sometimes find silver linings to the dark clouds of their experience. This is an important oversight, given that 21% of stalking victims in one study perceived clearly positive experiences as a result (Haugaard & Seri, 2003), and another study found that the extent of unwanted relationship pursuit victimization is correlated 0.34 to resilience outcomes (Spitzberg & Rhea, 1999). People who express anger often feel relieved (23%), calm and relaxed (22%), satisfied (9%), and happy (5%) as a result (Tafrate, Kassinove, & Dundin, 2002), and are more likely to experience reconciliation in their relationship (r = 0.26; Fischer & Roseman, 2007). McMillen, Zuravin, and Rideout (1995) found that 47% of female victims of childhood sexual abuse were able to identify some benefit received from their experience. Isolated studies in IPV contexts have also identified “unique outcomes” of abuse, including experiences of “breaking free,” “determination,” “resurgence,” “reawakening,” and strengthening of bonds with confidants and friends (Draucker, 2003). In a qualitative study, Olson (2002) found that “while many participants noted that the use of aggression was an incompetent form of communication, they also described many instances when employing aggression was appropriate and effective, allowing them to justifiably achieve their goals” (p. 185). Research into the nature of traumatic experiences is increasingly demonstrating that a nontrivial proportion of IPV victims, often in addition to their trauma, experience personal growth and self-improvement, such as enhanced spirituality, a sense of greater closeness to others and to community, appreciation of life, realization of new possibilities, and sense of personal strength (e.g., Anderson & Lopez-Baez, 2008; Bogar & HulseKillacky, 2006; Humphreys, 2003; Kearney, 2001; Kuo, Roysircar, & NewbyClark, 2006; Senter & Caldwell, 2002; Sheikh & Marotta, 2005). The point is not that IPV is a good means for self-improvement. The point, instead, is twofold: (1) a phenomenon cannot be fully understood unless all of its functions and effects are understood, and (2) these functions and effects will not be understood when ideological biases prevent the relevant theoretical and operational questions from even being asked. On the vertical are the orders of effect, graduated by level of abstraction or generalization (see Riger, Raja, & Camacho, 2002). The victim is the first source of immediate effects of violence, but in reacting to the violence, the victim may increasingly withdraw from social relationships, thereby producing a second-level effect. To the extent the people populating these social relationships become involved, they may experience compassion fatigue, social support provision depletion or stress, or even become a direct target of the IPV perpetrator, thereby making them a third-order effect. At the fourth order are effects on society or culture, in which law enforcement,

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courts, healthcare systems, and social conflicts become invested in the problems at the individual and relational level (National Center for Injury Prevention and Control, 2003). The depth dimension represents various domains in which effects may be manifest. Many studies examine general or holistic indices of trauma or disruption, such as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or life satisfaction (e.g., Babcock et al., 2008; Basile et al., 2004; Weaver & Clum, 1995). Some studies examine physiological effects, such as sleep disorders, chronic fatigue, cigarette smoking, substance use and abuse, physical health and disease, sexual risktaking, physical and role limitations, and injury and death (e.g., Bonomi et al., 2006; Campbell et al., 2003; Coker, Smith et al., 2000; Doyle, Frank, Saltzman, McMahon, & Fielding, 1999; Felson & Cares, 2005). Other studies are concerned with affective effects, such as positive and negative emotions, depression, sadness, grief, anxiety, fear, career and relational disaffection, and life dissatisfaction (e.g., Bonomi et al., 2006; Zlotnick et al., 2006). Cognitive effects involve changes to perceptions, including selfesteem and autonomy, perceived guilt and harm, suicide ideation, health perceptions, perceiving self as overweight, cognitive impairment, and exaggerated social threat appraisal (e.g., Murphy, Stosny, & Morrel, 2005; Dutton, Kaltman, Goodman, Weinfurt, & Vankos, 2005; Straight, Harper, & Arias, 2003). Behavioral effects refer to changes in a person’s routine behavior or daily types of activities. Research may investigate conflicts with others, or managing household tasks (e.g., Zlotnick et al., 2006). Spiritual effects represent impacts on a person’s faith, whether that faith is in an institution (e.g., law enforcement, the press, country), valued individuals who represent such institutions (e.g., clergy, police, etc.), or a higher being (Giesbrecht & Sevcik, 2000; Katerndahl & Obregon, 2007; Watlington & Murphy, 2006). People who experience disruption of physiology, affect, cognition, behavior, and spirit are also likely to experience changes to their social or relational experiences, including social network fatigue or social isolation (Alsaker, Moen, & Kristoffersen, 2008; Trotter & Allen, 2009). The experience of IPV is likely to correspond to at least some economic disruptions. Victims may need to change jobs, homes, or even geographic location. Victims may need to invest in security systems, hire legal consultation, or pay for medical bills (Logan, Shannon, Cole, & Swanberg, 2007). The economic disruptions that IPV victims experience may also correspond to various kinds of societal and resource effects. Healthcare systems, judicial and law enforcement bureaucracies, and counseling resources all bear the brunt of IPV demand, and such demand may tax both public tax resources as well as system capacity (e.g., Arias & Corso, 2005; Max, Rice, Finkelstein, Bardwell, & Leadbetter, 2004).

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There is little doubt that any attempt to calculate the net cost/benefit of intimate partner violence on individuals and on society will demonstrate that, collectively, IPV produces an enormous negative impact on balance. The evidence is relatively unequivocal that IPV produces death and injury, other physical and physiological harms, psychological and emotional trauma, disrupted social network relations, spiritual costs, and extensive societal costs (National Center for Injury Prevention and Control, 2003). The study of potential positively valenced outcomes from IPV has been largely ignored in such studies, although even if such research identifies positive outcomes, it seems implausible to suggest that IPV would ever represent an ideal means to such ends. Furthermore, the vast majority of research indicates that the net costs, across most if not all of the typological effects domains of IPV, are qualitatively and quantitatively greater for females than for males (Archer, 2000; Breslau & Anthony, 2007; Rennison & Welchans, 2000; Tjaden & Thoennes, 1998; cf. Felson & Cares, 2005; Pimlott-Kubiak & Cortina, 2003). Until the manifold complexities of such effects are included in the study of IPV, however, for both males and females, a valid and comprehensive theory of IPV is unlikely to emerge.

SUMMARY This exploration of the nature, function, scope, and effects of intimate partner violence has revealed considerable complexity and ambivalence. The nature of IPV is ambivalent in people’s normative evaluation of the referents and uses of the basic terms related to violence. IPV is not fundamentally or even primarily intended or functionally directed toward the establishment of power or definitions of gender. Instead, IPV reflects a highly variegated motivational and functional process, as evidenced by the manifold motives attributed to intimate violence, and by the diverse effects such experiences have on individuals. Any eventual comprehensive theory of IPV will need to accommodate a more complex and ambivalent perspective toward violence in intimate relationships. Toward this end, the outlines of an interactional personal affect and identity negotiation (PAIN) theory of IPV are presented below.

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THEORIZING IPV: A PERSONAL AFFECT AND IDENTITY NEGOTIATION (PAIN) MODEL In an attempt to formulate a useful integrative model that has maximal theoretical potential, formal propositions will be provided as a basic architecture from which future efforts may elaborate more testable hypotheses. This model is similar in architecture to one previously outlined (Spitzberg, 2010). The model is based on a few basic presuppositions: (1) (2) (3) (4)

perceived transgressions cause face threat; face threat causes negative arousal; face threat-based negative arousal causes conflict; conflict escalation is moderated by defensive attributions and competence perceptions; and (5) conflict escalation increases the likelihood of intimate partner violence. The model is therefore an attempt to integrate personal affect into an identity negotiation framework (see Figure 13.2). Any one of the propositions developed below could easily justify its own chapter, so these are developed in a somewhat abbreviated manner. Any attempt to model IPV must begin with a basic definitional proposition: Violence is an interactional process (Tedeschi & Felson, 1994; Vatnar & Bjørkly, 2008; Winstock, 2007). Violence, as a behavior occurring in an interpersonal context, is a constitutive part of an interactional process. The theoretical question of interest is: What causes this violence?

PAIN MODEL PROPOSITIONS P1: Perceived affronts (i.e., rule violations, transgressions) are directly related to face threat. Transgressions are violations of rules, positively valenced expectancies, relational values or norms (Metts, 1994; Metts & Cupach, 2007; Roloff & Cloven, 1994). They represent a disruption of the appropriate way of doing things. Because people negotiate a relationship as much as possible to be consistent with their intended representation of self (Averett & Heise, 1988; Heise & Thomas, 1989; Smith-Lovin, 1988; Spitzberg & Brunner, 1991), transgressions represent a threat to the self (Cupach & Metts, 1994). Face is the image of self that interactants intend to project to others in social contexts. Goffman (1967) originally defined face as “the positive social value a person claims” through interaction expressed to and appraised by others (p. 5). Face is “not lodged in or on” a person’s body, “but rather something

Estrangement Infidelity

Anger

Jealousy

Negative arousal

Shame

Attributional divergence

Verbal conflict

Rage

Communicative aggression

Account competence

Figure 13.2 Interactional Model of Personal Affect and Identity Negotiation (PAIN) Predicting Likelihood of IPV

Other affronts

Perceived affront

Account competence

Intentional attribution

IPV

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that is diffusely located in the flow of events in the encounter and becomes manifest only when these events are read and interpreted for the appraisals expressed in them” (p. 7). Later theoretical distinctions have claimed two broad types of face (Brown & Levinson, 1987; see also Lim & Bowers, 1991). Positive face is the need to have an interactant’s claimed self-image consistently appreciated or approved or otherwise positively evaluated by others. In contrast, negative face is the need to establish “territories, personal preserves, rights to non-distraction—i.e., to freedom of action and freedom from imposition” (p. 61). The need to communicate face is probably an adaptive trait essential for regulating emotions (Keltner & Anderson, 2000). These face wants are similar, although not identical, to the dimensions of evaluation proposed by theories of interpersonal competence: Appropriateness and effectiveness (Spitzberg, 2000; Spitzberg & Cupach, 1984). Interactants are motivated to perform to some degree of competence, and the competence of a performance is evaluated in terms of its appropriateness (i.e., legitimacy, acceptability, contextual fit, etc.) and effectiveness (i.e., achievement of relatively rewarding outcomes). P2: Face threat is directly related to likelihood of verbal conflict. Conflicts represent situations of interactional interdependence and expressed struggle in which one party seeks some path or outcome that is perceived to be resisted by another party or parties (Cupach, Canary, & Spitzberg, 2010). In such an encounter, one party seeks a course of action that is perceived by that party to be appropriate and effective (i.e., projecting positive and negative face), but these lines of action are perceived to be resisted or blocked by another party. Such resistance, therefore, threatens the face of the protagonist. In engaging the conflict to persuade, coerce, or otherwise influence the resisting party, the resisting party is likely also to experience threats to face as well. These structural elements of conflict make the achievement of competence in the process of interpersonal conflict inherently problematic (Canary & Cupach, 1988; Canary, Cupach, & Serpe, 2001; Canary & Spitzberg, 1989, 1990; Champion & Clay, 2007; Lakey & Canary, 2002; Olson & Golish, 2002). Conflicts by definition, therefore, threaten the positive or negative face of participants, but the dose response of the perceived severity or egoinvolvement of a face threat to conflict is likely to matter to the course of conflict (Cupach, 2007; White, Tynan, Galinsky, & Thompson, 2004). Conflicts are bound up in perceived affronts, rule violation, problematic partner behavior (Olson & Lloyd, 2005), or “noxious events” (Mack, 1989). Olson and Lloyd’s (2005) study found that of the aggressive conflicts studied, 36% of women attributed their motives most to rule violations. P3: Perceived affronts are directly related to the use of accounts. When an interactant’s face is projected but in some way disrespected by others, that interactant’s face has been threatened, and the interactional process reflects a disruption in want of repair (Cupach & Metts, 1994). One of the most

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common results of such face-threatening episodes is an attempt to account for the transgression, and it is the negotiations surrounding the transgression and subsequent competence of the account that often constitute the course of conflict (Schönbach, 1990). Accounts represent a repertoire of tactics intended to explain, manage, or repair a perceived or accused transgression. Common accounting tactics include refusals or denials, excuses, justifications, concessions, remorse, and apology (Schönbach, 1980). P4: The competence of accounts moderates the likelihood of conflict escalation. The competence with which accounts are employed and negotiated are key moderators of the escalation and valence of conflict outcomes (Risen & Gilovich, 2007; Schönbach, 1990, 1992; Tuppen & Gaitan, 1989). Accounts vary in both a structural and a performance perspective. Excuses are structurally different from justifications, which are structurally different from concessions. Research indicates that, ceteris paribus, denials/refusals and justifications are the least competent, whereas excuses, concessions, remorse, and apologies are more competent (Anderson, Linden, & Habra, 2006; Bachman & Guerrero, 2006; Benoit et al., 2004; Ferrin, Kim, Cooper, & Dirks, 2007; May & Jones, 2007; Shaw, Wild, & Colquitt, 2003) and manage resulting anger and forgiveness better (Baron, 1990; Weiner, Amirkhan, Folkes, & Verette, 1987). The performance dimension of accounts indicates that there are individual and relational differences in the competence with which any of these types of accounts might be performed. Impressions of sincerity, genuineness, spontaneity, honesty, and openness are likely to affect the perceived appropriateness and effectiveness of accounts (Exline, Deshea, & Holeman, 2007; Guerrero & Reiter, 1998; Ohbuchi, Kameda, & Agarie, 1989; Risen & Gilovich, 2007). In particular, to the degree that an account diminishes the offended party’s view of the intentionality of the transgression, the less the perpetrator is blameworthy (Boon & Sulsky, 1997) and the more that anger is attenuated and forgiveness is facilitated (Weiner, Figueroa-Muñoz, & Kakihara, 1991). Thus, P5: The attribution of harmful intent or responsibility to face threat moderates the likelihood of conflict escalation. Anger and IPV narratives reveal significant self-serving attributional biases in their interpretation based on victimversus-perpetrator role; perpetrators perceive their anger as isolated and justified, whereas victims tend to perceive it arbitrary, gratuitous, or incomprehensible (Baumeister, Stillwell, & Wotman, 1990; Cavanagh et al., 2001; Eckhardt, Barbour, & Davison, 1998; Schütz, 1999). Abusive husbands appear to over-attribute criticism and rejection into their partners’ behaviors (Schweinle & Ickes, 2002). Such biased attributions of attack and counterattack, shame and defensiveness, are likely to feed into the core affective reactions of the participants. Weiner (1995) has formulated a theory of responsibility attributions, which fits compatibly with why biased attributions produce negative arousal states,

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resulting in aggression rather than sympathy—if there is a blameworthy target of one’s negative emotions or rage, then that target becomes a likely candidate for aggression. “Virtually all cognitive theorists who espouse an appraisal approach to emotion believe that volitional harm by another is included among the antecedents of anger . . . The evidence regarding this association is incontrovertible” (p. 192). Consistent with this, research indicates that when a person is perceived as being “nasty” it increases the perceived justification for using violence against that person (Taylor & Sorenson, 2005; Witte, Schroeder, & Lohr, 2006). Biases in inferring criticism are related to the use of abuse and aggression in conflict (Cupach, 2007; Schweinle & Ickes, 2002), and partners who are seen as disrespecting or cheating are more likely to be the targets of IPV (Taylor & Sorenson, 2005). One study indicated that a wife’s perception of her husband’s responsibility for his negative behavior predicted the wife’s use of IPV (Byrne & Arias, 1997). P6: Face threat is directly related to the experience of negative arousal. When interactants are asked to nominate the causes of their violence, emotions tend to arise far more often than attributions to concepts such as power and control. For example, in criticism situations, Cupach and Carson (2002) found substantial associations between perceived face threat and feelings of anger/hurt, embarrassment, and anxiety/depression. A sentiment override hypothesis proposes that arousal frames a person’s perception of a partner’s conflict behavior independent of that partner’s behavior. That is, people experiencing negative arousal will over-attribute negativity to a partner. Research has supported such processes for males (Floyd, 1998). A displaced aggression hypothesis proposes that when a person is attacked or provoked in a context in which retaliation against the provocateur is not feasible, the frustration and arousal evoked by this experience will be displaced to another target in a later context. Meta-analytic research reveals a substantial effect (mean effect size = 0.54), and although the vast majority of studies used samesex designs, there was no difference between those who displaced their aggression to a same- or opposite-sex target (Marcus-Newhall, Pedersen, Carlson, & Miller, 2000). Even when frustrations are not displaced, the provocation–negative arousal link is likely to promote aggressive response tendencies. A metaanalysis of direct observations of aggressive behavior identifies moderate effects of verbal (d’s = 0.51–0.56), frustration (d’s = 0.70–0.79), and physical (d’s = 0.45–0.52) provocation on aggression (Bettencourt, Talley, Benjamin, & Valentine, 2006). Investigating the hypothesis that males experience greater difficulty with emotion regulation than women, Knight, Guthrie, Page, and Fabes (2002) conducted a meta-analysis, finding an interaction between the provocativeness of stimuli and gender effects. There were small sex differences in response to contexts that involved no or large sources of emotional arousal, but males tended to respond more aggressively to sources

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of moderate arousal. Similarly, Bettencourt and Miller’s (1996) meta-analysis found that males were more aggressive than women (mean effect sizes = 0.23–0.24), but the effects for provocation were substantially larger (range 0.75–0.91), suggesting that provocation is a far better predictor of aggression than gender. In a finding with a variety of potential implications for understanding the escalation of aggression in conflict encounters, they found that “men are more apt to be physically aggressive than women even under conditions of provocation, but men and women do not differ in verbal aggression even under neutral conditions. Finally, provocation appears to have a greater effect on female verbal aggression than on female physical aggression” (p. 438). There are two types of face threat that have demonstrated particular potency in producing negative arousal, conflict, and IPV: Infidelity and relational estrangement. P6a: Suspected infidelity is directly related to negative arousal. Few acts are as prototypical of a relational rule violation as infidelity (e.g., Emmers-Sommer, 2003; Metts, 1994; Turner, Russell, Glover, & Hutto, 2007). Infidelity represents a significant face threat to the transgressed person (Afifi, Falato, & Weiner, 2001). Infidelity has been significantly implicated in relational conflict, intimate partner violence, and intimate homicide (Tafoya & Spitzberg, 2007). Infidelity is widely studied as a primary elicitor of jealousy and other negative emotional reactions (e.g., Allen et al., 2005; Bush, Bush, & Jennings, 1988; Charny & Parnass, 1995) and aggressive responses (de Weerth & Kalma, 1993). Extending P4 as part of the PAIN model, there is evidence that more competent accounts for infidelity appear to have some mollifying effects on the transgressed partner’s affect toward the cheater (Mongeau, Hale, & Alles, 1994). P6b: Relational estrangement is directly related to negative arousal. Closely related to suspicions of infidelity, actual infidelity and the feelings of jealousy that are elicited by actual or possible infidelity, threats of relationship estrangement or separation are one of the most researched types of affront in relation to intimate violence. Research indicates that attempted and actual relational separation are significant risk factors for both intimate violence in general and femicide in particular (e.g., Brownridge, 2006; Brownridge et al., 2008; Hannawa, Spitzberg, Wiering, & Teranishi, 2006; cf. Harris, 2003). Violent males react more strongly to abandonment scenarios than nonviolent males, suggesting an experience of ‘abandonment anxiety’ (Dutton & Browning, 1988). The link between attempted or actual partner departure is interpreted as a product of a proprietary culture in which men react violently to the prospective loss of their ‘property’ or as a socioevolutionary adaptation to protect the female partner’s fidelity (see DeKeseredy, Rogness, & Schwartz, 2004; Goetz, Shackelford, Romero, Kaighobadi, & Miner, 2008; Serran & Firestone, 2004, for review). The idea that personal or social rejection is intrinsically hurtful has even been

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ascribed a neural basis (see Eisenberger & Lieberman, 2004). A potentially compelling explanation of this ‘estrangement’ effect, therefore, is the shame, anger, and rage resulting from the implicit affront of someone denying the perpetrator’s self-presumed rights of ownership, competence as a partner, and mating status. P7: Negative arousal is directly related to defensive (i.e., self-biased and divergent) attributions. Attribution theory has long predicted that self-serving biases influence the perceptions of events, such that positive outcomes are more likely to be accepted as a product of self whereas negative outcomes are more likely to be attributed external to self (Bradbury & Fincham, 1990; Schütz, 1999; Sillars, Roberts, Dun, & Leonard, 2001; cf. Malle, Knobe, & Nelson, 2007). Benign attributions (e.g., to self or to the situation) rather than defensive attributions (e.g., blaming partner) appear particularly characteristic and facilitative of relational satisfaction (Kearns & Fincham, 2005). This selfserving bias also appears characteristic of episodes of IPV (Andrews & Brewin, 1990; Cantos, Neidig, & O’Leary, 1993). Abusive males have been found to react with more negative intent attributions to partner provocations, and more jealousy, rejection, and abandonment feelings (Moore, Eisler, & Franchina, 2000). When biased attributions for a transgression intersect, it is likely that the transgressor will seek to excuse, justify, or attribute to the context, whereas the transgressed will seek to blame the transgressor or a pattern of behavior. In such contexts, attributional conflicts occur, which may be relatively irresolvable because of the intrinsically intangible aspect of social causation (Orvis, Kelley, & Butler, 1976). P8: Negative arousal and defensive attributions are directly related to likelihood of experiencing rage. Negative arousal provides the motivation, and defensive attributions provide the ammunition and a target. Research also implicates affronts as the proximal causes of IPV episodes. Physically aggressive husbands feel “attacked” (Margolin, John, & Gleberman, 1988) and feel their partner is challenging their power or decisions (Stets, 1988). Abusers tend to externalize their attributions, and internalize attributions about their partners, although males appear more prone to this tendency (Mills & MalleyMorrison, 1998). Consistent with the reciprocity counter-claim developed previously, it is the partner’s aggression or violence that is often perceived as the trigger of an episode of violence (Sarantakos, 2004). A triad of emotions in particular has been shown to populate the intersections of negative affect and defensively attributed causes: Anger, jealousy, and shame. These emotions, in turn, are connected to the experience of a particular emotional syndrome referred to as rage. In particular, P9: Negative arousal in the form of anger, jealousy, and shame moderate (amplify) conflict escalation. Anger represents an appraised state involving “a relatively intense sense of physiological arousal” (Berkowitz, 1993, p. 24) entailing “blameworthy

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actions and undesirable outcomes” (Clore, Ortony, Dienes, & Fujita, 1993, p. 69). Jealousy is an emotional, cognitive, and behavioral syndrome evoked by the actual or perceived threat of losing a valued partner, typically to an actual or perceived rival (Guerrero & Andersen, 1998). Jealousy is particularly sensitive to suspicions of partner infidelity (Edlund & Sagarin, 2009), and is a common elicitor of relational conflict (e.g., Siegert & Stamp, 1994). Given the association between jealousy and love, the attribution of jealousy even attenuates the extent to which observers hold jealous persons accountable for their aggression (Puente & Cohen, 2003). Jealousy and anger share a number of characteristics, but are also distinct experiences (e.g., Fitness & Fletcher, 1993). Shame can be understood to include “a family of emotions that include a wide range of variations, from mild embarrassment and social discomfort to intense forms such as humiliation,” which involve “concern about other’s images of oneself” (Scheff & Retzinger, 1991, p. 65). Shame in particular reflects a “separation (or threat of separation) and injury to self: insult, rejection, rebuff, disapproval, unrequited love, betrayal, unresponsiveness, disrespect, and the like” (p. 65). Shame is an intrinsically social emotion, in that it is indexed in the context of what others are perceived to perceive (Babcock & Sabini, 1990; Lewis, 1993). This triad of largely negative forms of arousal is intrinsically bound up in face threat. Anger is a reaction to a lack of efficacy or negative face (e.g., inability to achieve a personal goal, whether changing a tire or watching a desired channel on television). Jealousy and shame clearly imply some degree of social or relational rejection. Jealousy is significantly related to anger (Hupka, Otto, Tarabrina, & Reidl, 1993), shame and guilt (Tangney & Salovey, 1999), and anger is positively related to humiliation (i.e., shame; Dutton & Browning, 1988) and to a particular type of affective reaction referred to as rage (Retzinger, 1991; Tangney, Wagner, Fletcher, & Gramzow, 1992). Shame and anger are likewise thought to be uniquely associated with rage, aggression, and violence (Retzinger, 1995). One or more of these emotions have been widely and commonly implicated by perpetrators and victims of IPV as significant explanatory attributions for the outbreak of conflict and violent episodes (e.g., Archer, 2004; Archer & Webb, 2006; Carlyle, Slater, & Chakroff, 2008; Cascardi & Vivian, 1995; Harned, 2001; Dobash & Dobash, 1984; Follingstad et al., 1991; Muñoz-Rivas et al., 2007; O’Leary et al., 2007; Olson & Golish, 2002; Olson & Lloyd, 2005; Ryan, 1995; Stamp & Sabourin, 1995; Stets & Pirog-Good, 1987; Stith et al., 2004; Sugarman & Hotaling, 1989; Tilley & Brackley, 2005; see Marcus & Swett, 2003, for review). That these emotions are particularly sensitive to perceived affront is indicated by Bettencourt et al.’s (2006) meta-analysis that found trait anger was related to physical violence only under conditions of provocation. Interactants are more inclined to engage in abuse to the extent they infer criticism or rejection from a partner (Schweinle & Ickes, 2002).

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P10: Verbal conflict with negative arousal is positively related to conflict escalation. Research has begun to demonstrate that physiological linkage or reactivity to a partner is predictive of violence and relational dysfunction, although the specific nature of these relationships appears to be complex and significantly moderated by other factors (Gottman et al., 1995; Margolin et al., 1988; Meehan & Holtzworth-Munroe, 2001; Meehan, HoltzworthMunroe, & Herron, 2001). To the extent that a partner’s words or behaviors can evoke swings in the other partner’s physiological states, it appears that violence may be one of the products of such regulatory disorders. Jealousy, anger, rage, and shame may be the interpretive appraisals that are overlaid upon such swings of arousal, especially in the context of verbal conflict. It seems almost axiomatic that the more intense the negative arousal states of interactants, the more intensely the conflict will be engaged. This will entail increases in physiological indicators of stress, nonverbal expressive displays of intensity (e.g., increases in volume, gesticulation, animation, etc.), and verbal defensiveness, redundancy, and rigidity. “Escalating conflict can be conceptualized as a sequence of provocations, each triggering an excitatory reaction that materializes quickly and that dissipates slowly. As a second sympathetic reaction occurs before the first has dissipated, the second reaction combines with the tail end of the first” (Zillmann, 1990, p. 192). This self-reinforcing interactional system not only tends to elicit many of the more irrational or unconscious affective states of the participants, it interferes with more rational and conscious control systems and coping responses. “As conflict escalates and sympathetic activity reaches extreme levels, individuals become less proficient in devising coping responses whose conception requires complex cognitive operations” (Zillmann, 1990, p. 200). To the extent that this escalation is sustained in a self-reinforcing upward spiral, it seems plausible to propose that: P11: Conflict escalation is reciprocally related to rage. This particular proposition reflects a reciprocal relationship, in that rage can fuel, and result from, conflict escalation. If anger feeds into an escalating cycle of attack and counter-attack, defensiveness and affective intensity, it follows that a product might be a state of rage. “Rage is called up as a response to the ‘last straw’ impasse. The entire consciousness of the abuser becomes filled with rage, and the object of that rage becomes the object of violent attack” (Mack, 1989, p. 196). The particular phenomenology of rage as an uncontrollable and irrational state is mirrored in much of the phenomenology of violent intimate encounters. Hanson, Cadsky, Harris, and Lalonde (1997) in a large sample of abusive men found that they “commonly reported feeling out of control and being surprised by their own actions” (p. 203). Ptacek (1988, p. 152) notes the interpretive topology of batterer narratives thusly:

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Most striking is that batterers and clinicians use similar language to characterize “loss of control.” The batterers speak in terms of irrational attacks (“I went berserk”; “I wasn’t sane”; “temporary insanity”); uncontrollable aggression (“I had no control over myself”; “it’s a condition of being out of control”; “uncontrollably violent”); and explosion metaphors (“I just blew up”; “blowout”; “walking time bomb”; “outburst of rage”; “eruptions”).

Anderson and Umberson (2001) similarly noted that men’s accounts of their intimate violence “depicted their own violence as primal, explosive, and damaging to others” (p. 366). Gondolf and Beeman (2003) also noted that 32% of men’s emotional states during violent incidents were described as “mad/upset,” 11% as “hostile/mean,” 7% as “screaming/yelling,” and 6% as “rage/flipped out.” McCarroll et al. (2004) found that women who emotionally abused their spouses were over twice as likely to receive severe physical abuse than women who physically abused their spouse (14.0% vs. 6.4%). The collective implication, therefore, is P12: Rage is directly related to the likelihood of IPV. P13: Verbal conflict (escalation) is directly related to the likelihood of IPV. P14: Communicative aggression is directly related to likelihood of IPV. Communicative aggression (CA) diminishes a person’s valued self-concept (Dailey et al., 2007). As such, CA is by definition a threat to face. Communicative aggression, however, can be thought of as an additional layer of face threat. The PAIN model proposes that an original transgression of some form instigates a disruption in routine activities, which evokes arousal that is appraised for its emotional meaning (Berscheid, 1993). Because it is a transgression, by definition the inclination is for the arousal to be appraised negatively. If accounting processes diverge, then there are now two levels of conflict—the original transgression and the interpretation of the account for the transgression. If the conflict escalates to the point of communicative aggression, then there are now three levels of transgression: (1) the original transgression; (2) the divergence of attributions and account(s); and (3) the partner’s new transgression of communicative aggression, resulting in a feeling of relational rejection and hurt (Leary & Springer, 2001; Vangelisti, 2007). This compiling of entanglements becomes increasingly intractable to resolution, in large part because the interlocutors are incapable of sorting through all levels of the conflict, even assuming they are competent communicators and capable of deft meta-communication and collaborative conflict management. That verbal conflict and communicative aggression can be a spark to IPV is strongly suggested by correlational evidence. One of the most axiomatic empirical facts about IPV is that it co-occurs with verbal conflict. Verbal conflict is substantially related to IPV (Aldarondo & Sugarman, 1996; Cascardi & Vivian, 1995; Cheatwood, 1996; Dobash & Dobash, 1984; Feldman

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& Ridley, 2000; Gryl et al., 1991; Hydén, 1995; Katz, Carino, & Hilton, 2002; Leonard & Senchak, 1996; Mann, 1992; Medeiros & Straus, 2006; Morton, Runyan, Moracco, & Butts, 1998; Repetti, 2001; Ridley & Feldman, 2003; Riggs et al., 1990; Ryan, 1995; Scott & Davies, 2002; Stets, 1992; Witte et. al., 2006; see Dailey et al., 2007; Hotaling & Sugarman, 1986, for review), and communicative aggression (i.e., psychological abuse) is a particularly strong correlate of IPV (Feldman & Ridley, 2000; Henning & Klesges, 2003; Olson & Lloyd, 2005; Rhatigan & Street, 2005; Ridley & Feldman, 2003; Sarantakos, 2004; Stith et al., 2004; Watlington & Murphy, 2006). Several studies indicate that IPV co-occurs with verbal conflict or aggression about 97–99% of the time, either in the relationship or in the actual episode of IPV (Frye & Karney, 2006; Hydén, 1995; Murty & Roebuck, 1992; Stets, 1990, 1992; Sugarman, Aldarondo, & Boney-McCoy, 1996; Vatnar & Bjørkly, 2008). The role of communicative aggression is also suggested by the extent to which victims of IPV perceive some aspect of their partner’s behavior as obnoxious, insulting, bothersome, embarrassing, or critical (Graham & Wells, 2002). From an interactional perspective, it is also important to point out that women who engage in verbal aggression appear significantly more likely to experience physical abuse (McCarroll et al., 2004). This finding may help explain findings that a victim’s verbal aggression tends to increase third-party blame of the victim for the ensuing violence (Witte et. al., 2006).

SUMMARY The PAIN model is intended to organize communication, social psychological, and clinical literatures into a predictive model that relies less on demographic or structural factors (e.g., sex, income, race) or individual trait factors (e.g., masculine ideology, approval of violence), and more on interactionally and relationally emergent factors. The model anticipates that almost any relationship is capable of experiencing IPV if the conflict conditions and context develop along a cascade of escalating and divergent intensifications of defensive interpretations and negative emotions. As interactants increasingly defend their respective identities, through both attack and self-protection, conflicts escalate both in intensity and the layers of incompatibility that emerge in the process of interaction. The frustration of escalating and irresolvable conflict eventually triggers more arousal, which progressively disinhibits cognitive control processes, and provokes defensive (and offensive) forms of aggressive communication, which in turn produces a combustible interactional context. One of the intended advantages of this model is that it proposes numerous links for intervention or de-escalation. A problem with models that rely on structural or demographic constructs is that they often are at a loss to

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recommend in situ strategies and tactics for intervention and prevention. Society may not be able to change a person’s gender ideology easily, and it is implausible to suggest changing the person’s gender for such purposes. It is, however, entirely feasible to educate couples in techniques of conflict management, ways of recognizing defensive attributions, and empathy for the hurtfulness of communicative aggression. Any progressive cascading process has numerous upstream stages at which the course of the downstream events may be diverted. The big payoffs in reducing IPV will be in techniques that prevent it before it happens, rather than cleaning up the personal and relational detritus that so often results from the exchange of violence in people’s relationships.

EMERGING FROM THE DARKNESS: WHITHER IPV RESEARCH AND THEORY? One of the great ironies of the dark side is that we seem to be darker with those we love than with “perfect” strangers. In theoretical terms, this is no mystery—it is only those upon whom our goals and life’s purposes are interdependent who can drive us mad with anger, frustration, and disappointment. Given the evolved importance of attachments and relationships (Baumeister & Leary, 1995), the insanity of interpretations such as “he wouldn’t hit me if he didn’t love me” or “she only hit me because she loves me” become tragically sensible. To pursue the dark side is to broach a way of asking questions. In approaching IPV, it is apparent that it is a far more complex phenomenon than is often implied by admonitions (1) that it is all about power; (2) that if a person hits once, that person will hit again; (3) that women are the only seriously victimized gender; and (4) that all violence is detrimental. This chapter was intended as provocative, but not just for the sake of provocation. The intent is to expand and refine explanatory and predictive models. The dark side provides a framing perspective intended both to liberate and guide theoretical progress toward more balanced comprehensive and practical insights.

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Narcissism and Relationships: From Light to Dark Joshua D. Foster and Jean M. Twenge

Discussing narcissism within the context of relationships is especially appropriate given the term’s origin. According to Greek mythology, Narcissus was one of Greece’s handsomest bachelors who was adored and pursued by all, including one particular nymph who went by the name of Echo (Bulfinch, 1913). Alas, Narcissus only had eyes for himself and consistently rejected Echo’s attentions. Although much of the tale of Narcissus revolves around his exchanges with Echo, she was but one of several nymphs he rebuffed. One of those scorned prayed that Narcissus himself should feel the pain of unrequited love. The prayer was granted and Narcissus was cursed to fall helplessly in love with the next person he encountered. Sadly for Narcissus, the curse was placed just prior to him taking a drink of water from a pond. Upon seeing his own reflection in the water, Narcissus became entranced and unable to look away. Narcissus’ infatuation was so deep that he remained transfixed until he died. The beautiful Narcissus flower bloomed in the place of his demise. The term narcissism is born out of a story of a man who is adored by others yet unable to form loving relationships with anyone but himself, and the dire consequences to him and those around him (Echo ultimately suffers a pretty horrific fate herself, being cast away to a cave and forced to repeat the statements of others for all eternity). This is consistent with the literature that we will review in this chapter: Narcissism has a mostly negative impact

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on relationships with others. However, there are a few positives to narcissism in relationships, and we will highlight these as well. The chapter will conclude with an attempt to integrate these opposing findings by suggesting that narcissism might best be thought of as a trait that facilitates relationship formation and short-term relationship functioning, but undermines longterm relationship functioning.

DEFINING AND MEASURING NARCISSISM What is narcissism? In brief, narcissistic people are arrogant, self-absorbed, and for the most part, not terribly pleasant to be around, at least not for very long. The more precise definition of narcissism, however, varies by subdiscipline (Miller & Campbell, 2008). Here we focus on two ways that narcissism has been defined within psychology: As a clinical disorder and as a personality trait.

Narcissism as a Clinical Disorder Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) was first introduced as an “official” psychological disorder in the third edition of the Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (DSM-III: American Psychiatric Association, 1980). Its inclusion in the DSM was due in large part to the efforts of psychoanalysts Otto Kernberg (1975) and Heinz Kohut (1977) who wrote extensively on the theoretical roots of narcissism and its treatment (for a review see Akhtar & Thomson, 1982). They suggested, for example, that narcissism is a pathological condition that emerges as a defense against childhood abandonment or lack of mirroring (i.e., the process by which positive aspects of the self are reflected by one’s parents). DSM-IV (American Psychiatric Association, 1994) succinctly characterizes NPD as a “pervasive pattern of grandiosity, need for admiration, and lack of empathy” (p. 714). In other words, narcissists think they are wonderful people, insist that others recognize their greatness, and are self-absorbed to the point that they are unable or unwilling to consider the needs and feelings of others. NPD is one of the Cluster-B personality disorders (PDs). This cluster, which is sometimes referred to as the “dramatic–erratic” cluster, also includes Antisocial PD, Borderline PD, and Histrionic PD. Cluster-B PDs are problematic in large part because of the negative effects they have on other people. Lack of empathy, for instance, feels neither good nor bad to people with NPD, but it can profoundly and negatively affect the lives of others (of course, narcissists do experience negative repercussions, such as social isolation, stemming from their behavior toward others).

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NPD is the rarest of the Cluster-B PDs. DSM-IV estimates a prevalence rate of NPD in the general population of less than 1% (American Psychiatric Association, 1994). A recent study, however, found that 6% of the U.S. population had experienced NPD at some point in their lives (Stinson et al., 2008). NPD was also found to be more common among younger generations: Almost 1 out of 10 people in their twenties reported experiencing NPD, compared to 3% of people over age 60. Therefore, although NPD is probably more common than earlier estimates suggest, and may in fact be on the rise, it is still quite rare. Furthermore, although individuals with NPD tend to think very positively of themselves, by definition NPD can only be diagnosed when the traits associated with it cause “significant functional impairment or subjective distress” (American Psychiatric Association, 1994, p. 717). In short, NPD can be thought of as a rare combination of traits that causes substantial problems for those who possess them.

Narcissism as a Personality Trait In addition to being a clinical disorder, narcissism is also studied within the realm of personality psychology. Rather than conceptualizing narcissism as a rare and dysfunctional disorder, personality psychologists typically view narcissism as a component of normal personality. For instance, narcissism can be described quite effectively in terms of broad band personality dimensions, such as those of the Five-Factor Model of personality (McCrae & Costa, 1987). Using this framework, narcissists have been described as “disagreeable extraverts” (Paulhus, 2001). In other words, narcissists are outgoing and mean. Importantly, being outgoing and mean, while not very pleasant for others, is not inherently dysfunctional or distressing. Thus, one can be incredibly narcissistic in personality psychology, but not disordered. In a related vein, the taxometrics literature shows that broad band personality (e.g., Five-Factor Model; Arnau, Green, & Tubre, 1999) and specific personality traits (e.g., psychopathy; Marcus, Ruscio, Lilienfeld, & Hughes, 2008) more often than not possess latent dimensional structures (for review see Haslam & Kim, 2002). That is, personality appears to exist as continua. Consistent with this view, taxometric research on the most widely used measure of narcissism within personality psychology suggests that there is no standard cut-score, above which one should be labeled a narcissist (Foster & Campbell, 2007). Rather, everyone falls along a narcissism continuum. In contrast, taxometric research on clinical measures of NPD reveals the presence of a low base rate narcissism taxon (Fossati et al., 2005); that is, a small latent group of individuals that would be accurately labeled narcissists. Because the form of narcissism that personality psychologists study (1) is not dysfunctional by definition and (2) has a dimensional structure that can

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be applied to everyone, it is sometimes referred to as normal narcissism (e.g., Sedikides, Rudich, Gregg, Kumashiro, & Rusbult, 2004). It is this normal narcissism that will be the primary focus of this chapter. Thus, for the remainder of this chapter, unless otherwise noted, when we use the term narcissism we are referring to the dimensional construct studied within personality psychology. Likewise, when we use the term narcissist we are referring to individuals who score above average on measures of narcissistic personality found within the personality psychology literature (e.g., the Narcissistic Personality Inventory; Raskin & Hall, 1979). We now turn to a few technical issues relevant to the study of narcissism. First, we briefly review how narcissism is measured. Second, we discuss research that examines individual differences in narcissism; that is, who is more or less narcissistic?

MEASUREMENT OF NARCISSISM Within personality psychology, narcissism is measured almost exclusively with the Narcissistic Personality Inventory (NPI; Raskin & Hall, 1979; Raskin & Terry, 1988). The NPI was initially developed at about the same time that NPD was included in the DSM-III (American Psychiatric Association, 1980). The developers of the NPI wanted to create a measure that was capable of tapping traits associated with NPD, but apply it to the general population. Originally, the NPI consisted of 80 forced-choice items. Each item contained two self-referenced statements. One of the statements was narcissistically toned (e.g., “I think I am a special person”) and the other took on a more neutral tone (e.g., “I am no better or worse than most people”). Test-takers received one point for each narcissistic statement they selected, thus total scores could range from zero to 80 (Raskin & Hall, 1979). After several sets of item culls, the version of the NPI most commonly employed today consists of 40 items (Raskin & Terry, 1988). It is notable that several other less commonly used versions of the NPI exist. Included in this group is a 37-item forced-choice version (Emmons, 1987)—although sometimes this version is administered in a true–false format using only the narcissistic statements (Rhodewalt & Morf, 1995)—a 16-item short format (Ames, Rose, & Anderson, 2006), child and adolescent versions (Calhoun, Glaser, Stefurak, & Bradshaw, 2000; Thomaes, Stegge, Bushman, Olthof, & Denissen, 2008), and translated versions (e.g., Kansi, 2003). Likewise, there are measures of “covert” narcissism (e.g., Hendin & Cheek, 1997), which describes individuals who seem outwardly to possess low self-esteem, but are actually quite arrogant (Wink, 1991). For the purposes of this chapter, however, we will limit our discussion to “overt” narcissism, which describes individuals who possess outwardly grandiose self-images, and is the type of narcissism captured by the NPI.

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INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCES IN NARCISSISM The NPI was originally intended to be gender-neutral, and initial gender comparisons revealed no gender differences in narcissism (Raskin & Terry, 1988). More recent studies, however, frequently report men scoring higher than women (e.g., Ames et al., 2006; Foster, Campbell, & Twenge, 2003), often by about a third of a standard deviation. Thus, there is a noticeable gender difference in narcissism, but also enough variance within gender that both sexes have some highly narcissistic individuals. Likewise, very rarely do studies report significant gender by narcissism interactions. Therefore, when we discuss narcissism’s impact on relationships, readers should be careful not to assume that the impact stems only or even primarily from men. We think it is more generally useful to think of individual differences in narcissism as being tied to cultural interdependence (Markus & Kitayama, 1991). Individuals and cultures that are more interdependent (e.g., collectivistic) tend to exhibit lower levels of narcissism. This may result in part from the fact that many of the things that narcissists do, such as drawing attention to themselves, are probably discouraged by collectivistic cultures. Being a narcissist is more difficult to pull off successfully in highly collectivistic cultures. It is not surprising then that research shows lower levels of narcissism in collectivistic parts of the world (e.g., the Middle East) and higher levels of narcissism in individualistic parts of the world (e.g., North America) (Foster, Campbell et al., 2003). A third individual difference in narcissism that has received empirical attention is age. When assessed cross-sectionally, younger people report higher levels of narcissism than do older people (Foster, Campbell et al., 2003). There are two possible explanations to this finding. First, it is possible that individuals become less narcissistic as they mature. This explanation makes a great deal of intuitive sense. Unfortunately, however, we could not locate any longitudinal studies that test this explanation. A second explanation that has been tested is that cultural differences across generations have resulted in generational differences in narcissism level. This hypothesis has spurred several recent publications and some controversy (Trzesniewski, Donnellan, & Robins, 2008a, 2008b, in press; Twenge & Foster, 2008; Twenge, Konrath, Foster, Campbell, & Bushman, 2008a, 2008b). Our view is that the bulk of the evidence suggests that narcissism has been increasing in young people for at least the past 25 years. For example, a meta-analysis of 85 samples from across the country reveals that American college students have been reporting increasing levels of narcissism (as measured by the NPI) between 1982 and 2006 (Twenge et al., 2008a). Samples from the University of California at Davis also show increases in narcissism between 2002 and 2008 (Trzesniewski et al., in press; Twenge & Foster, 2008). In sum, the evidence suggests that (1) younger people are more narcissistic than older

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people and (2) current generations report higher narcissism than previous generations. This suggests that narcissism levels are on the rise, at least within the United States. Given this, the study of narcissism and its interpersonal consequences (the focus of this chapter) is especially important.

NARCISSISM AND RELATIONSHIPS Our objective for the remainder of this chapter is to review the literature on narcissism and relationships, paying particular attention to romantic relationships, but also discussing other types of relationships such as peer relationships and friendships. The structure of our review will loosely reflect the evolution of relationships, from first impressions, to attraction, and finally to established relationships. With regard to established relationships, we will narrow our review to selected topics that have attracted at least moderate levels of empirical attention (e.g., commitment, sexuality, and aggression). We will finally discuss how narcissism can be thought of as a help and/or hindrance during each of these stages, and conclude by suggesting that narcissism might be best conceptualized as a trait that is largely adaptive early on in relationships because it facilitates relationship formation and shortterm relationship functioning, but primarily maladaptive later on because it promotes long-term relationship dysfunction.

Early Impressions of Narcissists on Others We begin our discussion of narcissism and relationships by focusing on the earliest stage of relationship formation: The first meeting. When one of us (JDF) was in graduate school, I would play a game to alleviate the boredom of repeatedly running participants through experiments. I would try to estimate participants’ NPI scores based on my limited interactions with them. While I was never able to make consistently accurate predictions, I did eventually get a “feel” for who the narcissists were in my studies. As you might expect, I would generally estimate high NPI scores for participants who were obnoxious jerks (I might add that these predictions were often correct). I was more surprised, however, by the fact that I often liked participants who scored high on the NPI. They were fun, talkative, and socially skilled. I felt really comfortable around them even though we had just met. I would not have described many of these individuals as narcissists even though their scores on the NPI clearly put them in the upper percentiles of the distribution. It turns out that my perceptions of narcissists are consistent with how the personality literature describes them. Narcissists possess a combination of traits that oftentimes make them immediately likeable. First, they are highly

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extraverted (Bradlee & Emmons, 1992; Lee & Ashton, 2005) and socially bold (Emmons, 1984), which allows them to say and do things that more introverted and socially anxious people would not (e.g., striking up conversations with strangers). Likewise, narcissists are socially flexible (i.e., high in self-monitoring; Emmons, 1984), which allows them to tailor their behavior to suit a given social situation. In short, narcissists are outgoing and socially adept. This combination of traits makes narcissists unlikely, for example, to be wallflowers at social get-togethers; they are more likely to be the life of the party—and generally speaking, people like the life of the party. Second, narcissists have positive dispositions; for example, they tend to be happy, optimistic, not depressed, and have high self-esteem (Farwell & Wohlwend-Lloyd, 1998; Hickman, Watson, & Morris, 1996; Sedikides et al., 2004; Watson & Biderman, 1993). This helps narcissists make good early impressions because people tend to like individuals with positive dispositions, and on the other side of the coin, people are often repulsed by individuals with negative dispositions (Coyne, 1976; Starr & Davila, 2008). We should be careful to note here that for the most part positive views of the self appear to be driven by how much one is liked by others (Baumeister, Campbell, Krueger, & Vohs, 2003).There are studies that nevertheless suggest an additional causal flow from positive self-views to likeability (e.g., Scott & Judge, 2009); that is, positive dispositions may make individuals more likeable. It seems reasonable then to suggest that narcissists’ positive sense of self help them make good early impressions on others. Given the dispositional makeup of narcissists, they should be well-liked upon first meeting. Evidence supporting this hypothesis comes from a variety of studies. Members of groups, for example, tend to report favorable initial impressions of narcissists (Paulhus, 1998). Perhaps as a consequence, narcissists often emerge as group leaders (Brunell et al., 2008; Paunonen, Lonnqvist, Verkasalo, Leikas, & Nissinen, 2006). Other research suggests just how quickly narcissistic charm works. In one particularly interesting line of research, participants observed 30-second video and audio clips of interviews of individuals who either met or almost met diagnostic criteria for NPD. These individuals received a variety of positive ratings by perceivers, such as high extraversion, likeability, and attractiveness (Friedman, Oltmanns, Gleason, & Turkheimer, 2006; Oltmanns, Friedman, Fiedler, & Turkheimer, 2004). Finally, research on narcissism and sexuality reveals that narcissists tend to engage frequently in short-term sexual relationships, such as onenight stands (Foster, Shrira, & Campbell, 2006; Jonason, Li, Webster, & Schmitt, 2009; Webster & Bryan, 2007). To the extent that short-term mating is associated with skill sets that facilitate attraction (Penke & Asendorpf, 2008), and to the extent to most people have sex with others whom they find appealing, this suggests that narcissists are judged favorably by others upon first meeting.

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Narcissism and Attraction The previous section discussed how traits associated with narcissism may make them immediately attractive. But what do narcissists find attractive in others? When discussing the traits that narcissists find attractive, it is useful to distinguish between agentic and communal traits. Agentic traits are as those that help individuals stand out whereas communal traits are those that promote fitting in and connecting with others (Bakan, 1966). That is, agentic traits facilitate “getting ahead” whereas communal traits facilitate “getting along” (Hogan, Jones, & Cheek, 1985). People tend to be most attracted to others who possess a combination of desirable agentic and communal traits. For example, evolutionary psychology research suggests that men and women are especially attracted to mates who are intelligent (agentic trait) and kind (communal trait) (Buss & Barnes, 1986). Do narcissists likewise prefer mates with combinations of strong agentic and communal traits? Based on the existing literature, the answer appears to be no. To help understand this, consider that narcissists view themselves especially positively in terms of agentic qualities (Campbell, Rudich, & Sedikides, 2002; Moskowitz, Rieger, & Seal, 2009). In terms of communal qualities, such as kindness, narcissists actually view themselves as distinctly average. Narcissists also downplay the importance of behaviors associated with communal traits, such as intimacy (Carroll, 1987), and generally view themselves as being motivated by agentic concerns (Bradlee & Emmons, 1992; Zeigler-Hill, Clark, & Pickard, 2008). Considering how much narcissists emphasize agentic traits in themselves, it makes sense that they would focus on these traits in potential mates. Narcissists indeed seem to be lured almost exclusively by positive agentic traits in others. In one study, for example, participants were asked to rate how attracted they would be to several different target dating partners (Campbell, 1999). Narcissism predicted attraction levels to two of the targets in particular. Narcissists were strongly attracted to the target whose description emphasized agentic traits (e.g., “someone who may enter the Olympics before attending medical school”; Campbell, 1999, p. 1259). In contrast, narcissists were actually repulsed by the target whose description emphasized communal traits (e.g., “sensitive, sharing, compassionate, and friendly”; Campbell, 1999, p. 1259). Why would narcissists be attracted to agentic traits and repulsed by communal traits? This is likely accounted for in part by the matching hypothesis, that is, the tendency for individuals to be attracted to similar others (AhYun, 2002; Byrne, Ervin, & Lamberth, 1970; Feingold, 1988, 1991; Jones, Pelham, Carvallo, & Mirenberg, 2004; Montoya, Horton, & Kirchner, 2008). Because narcissists think of themselves in agentic terms (Bradlee & Emmons, 1992; Campbell, Rudich et al., 2002), it makes sense that they would

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find agentic traits in others attractive. Another explanation deals with how relationships serve a self-regulatory function for narcissists. Narcissists view their relationships as opportunities for self-enhancement (Campbell, 1999; Campbell, Brunell, & Finkel, 2006; Campbell & Foster, 2007). They look, more specifically, to harvest narcissistic esteem from their relationships (Campbell & Foster, 2007), which is rooted in dominance and pride (Brown & Zeigler-Hill, 2004; Tracy & Robins, 2004). Garnering positive attention (e.g., admiration) from others is an especially effective way to increase narcissistic esteem. Narcissists do a variety of things to garner positive attention from others in their everyday lives, such as showing off positive physical and social attributes (Buffardi & Campbell, 2008; Vazire, Naumann, Rentfrow, & Gosling, 2008). Likewise, in close relationships, narcissists may garner positive attention by pairing with partners who possess highly attractive and noticeable traits. Because attractive agentic traits tend to be more noticeable than communal traits (e.g., beauty is more easily seen than kindness), one can think of agentic traits as trophies that narcissists can very easily show off. Therefore, to the extent narcissists self-enhance via their relationships, it makes sense they would be especially attracted to other people with attractive agentic traits. A third related reason why narcissists would be attracted to agentic rather than communal traits has to do specifically with their repulsion by communal traits. As noted earlier, narcissists tend to engage in short-term sexual relationships that require little if any commitment (Foster et al., 2006; Jonason et al., 2009; Webster & Bryan, 2007). Narcissists are likewise less inclined to involve themselves in long-term committed relationships (Campbell & Foster, 2002; Foster, 2008). Because interest in short-term sexual liaisons tends to be lower in individuals who possess strong communal traits (e.g., high agreeableness; Schmitt & Shackelford, 2008), avoiding communally oriented mates facilitates narcissists’ short-term mating strategy. To summarize, narcissists are attracted to positive agentic traits in others and are not attracted to communal traits. There are a variety of possible explanations for these preferences, although more research is needed to establish whether any of these explanations is correct. Although there is empirical research suggesting what narcissists find attractive, there is much less that investigates why narcissists are attracted to certain traits and not others. There is also a lack of empirical research that examines the consequences of narcissists’ preferences. For example, we do not know whether selecting romantic partners based on agentic rather than communal traits undermines the long-term functioning of relationships involving narcissists. More research is clearly needed in this potentially important area.

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Established Relationships Involving Narcissists The remainder of this section focuses on what we know about narcissists within the context of established relationships with others. As was the case before, we will focus mostly on close relationships, but will also discuss other types of relationships (e.g., peer) when relevant. We divide this discussion into three topics that have each received reasonable treatment in the literature, (1) narcissism and commitment, (2) narcissism and sexuality, and (3) narcissism and aggression.

Narcissism and Commitment. The most prominent theoretical model of relationship commitment in the social psychology literature is Rusbult’s investment model (Rusbult, 1980, 1983; Rusbult, Olsen, Davis, & Hannon, 2004). According to this model, commitment—defined as “the intention to continue a relationship” (Miller, Perlman, & Brehm, 2007)—is regulated by three mechanisms labeled satisfaction, investment, and quality of alternatives. Individuals who are satisfied in their relationships, have invested much time, energy, and/or resources into their relationships, and do not perceive good alternatives to their relationships (including not having a relationship at all) tend to be the most committed. Commitment is the best known determinant of whether one stays or leaves a relationship (Le & Agnew, 2003). The investment model is most commonly applied to romantic relationships, but can just as easily apply to friendships and work relationships. For example, a worker who is unhappy at her job, has worked at her job for only a few months, and knows that that she could make more money at another job is likely to be uncommitted to her job and consequently more likely to quit. A handful of studies have investigated narcissism and the investment model, and all of these studies have focused exclusively on romantic relationships. A consistent finding across these studies is that narcissism predicts low commitment (Campbell & Foster, 2002; Campbell, Foster, & Finkel, 2002; Foster, 2008; Foster et al., 2006).1 The question of why narcissists are less committed has produced more varied findings. In terms of narcissism’s associations with specific commitment mechanisms, narcissists pay a great deal of attention to their relationship alternatives— although not officially one of the investment model mechanisms, attention to alternatives is a fourth mechanism thought to further regulate commitment (Miller, 1997)—and tend to view these alternatives as highly attractive (Campbell & Foster, 2002; Campbell, Foster et al., 2002). The links between narcissism and satisfaction and investment are more tenuous. Whereas some research suggests that narcissism predicts low satisfaction and low investment (Foster, 2008), other research suggests that narcissism predicts neither

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of these mechanisms very well (Campbell & Foster, 2002). Further research needs to be conducted to clarify these possible associations. One study has directly investigated whether weakened investment model mechanisms explain why narcissists are less committed to their relationships (Campbell & Foster, 2002). It found that narcissists are less committed to their relationships because they perceive the alternatives to their relationships to be very appealing. This finding is consistent with another study showing that narcissists’ unrestricted sociosexual orientations (i.e., preference for uncommitted sexual relationships; Simpson & Gangestad, 1991) also help to explain their lack of relationship commitment (Foster et al., 2006). For example, narcissists report that they frequently fantasize about having sex with individuals outside of their relationships. Combined, this research suggests that narcissists lack commitment to their relationships at least in part because they feel pulled to alternative relationships. Narcissists consistently report that their relationship alternatives are appealing and sometimes also report being less satisfied and invested in their relationships. Based on this description, one may wonder whether narcissists are ever committed to their relationships. Recent research suggests that indeed narcissists can be very strongly committed to their relationships. Narcissism appears to moderate how tightly commitment is regulated by its mechanisms such that differences in mechanism strength (e.g., low versus high satisfaction) predict more pronounced differences in commitment for highly narcissistic individuals (Foster, 2008). When times are tough (i.e., low satisfaction), attractive romantic opportunities abound (i.e., high quality of alternatives), and potential loss is low (i.e., low investment), narcissists are even less inclined than non-narcissists to maintain their relationships. This statement takes an admittedly glass-half-empty view of narcissism and commitment. A more optimistic and equally valid statement is that when satisfaction and investment are high and quality of alternatives is low, narcissists are very strongly committed to their relationships. During these times, narcissists indeed report commitment scores that hit the ceiling of the commitment measure most commonly employed in investment model research (i.e., the Investment Model Scale: Rusbult, Martz, & Agnew, 1998). While this research shows that narcissists can be highly committed to their relationships, it also suggests that the commitment of narcissists likely fluctuates dramatically. With every shift in satisfaction, investment, and/or quality of alternatives, the commitment of narcissists should change that much more than the commitment of less narcissistic individuals. This probably results in highly tumultuous relationships involving narcissists. To our knowledge, no research has examined this directly, but this added volatility may ultimately prove important to understanding why relationships involving narcissists tend not to last very long.

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Narcissism and Sex. When discussing relationships, one would be remiss not to discuss the topic of sex. This is especially true when relationships are discussed in connection to narcissism. The term narcissism is historically rooted in sexuality. One of the first appearances of the word narcissism in the medical literature makes reference to a disorder whereby individuals are sexually aroused by their own bodies (Ellis, 1889). Freud’s (1914) famous treatment of narcissism was also heavily laced with sexuality. Therefore, it is surprising that outside of the psychoanalytic literature very few studies have examined the sexual behavior of narcissists. We can nevertheless say a few things about how narcissists approach sex based on the existing literature. First, as has been noted, narcissists report relatively unrestricted sociosexual orientations (Foster et al., 2006; Jonason et al., 2009; Webster & Bryan, 2007). That is, narcissists require less commitment than do others before engaging in sexual behavior (Simpson & Gangestad, 1991). For example, narcissists report engaging in more frequent one-night stands than do nonnarcissists (Foster et al., 2006). Second, just like narcissists emphasize agentic traits over communal traits in intimate partners (Campbell, 1999), they are also agentically oriented toward sex. Foster et al. (2006), for example, found that relative to non-narcissists, narcissists place more emphasis on deriving physical pleasure from sexual behavior. Non-narcissists conversely place more emphasis than do narcissists on deriving emotional intimacy from sexual intercourse. Foster et al. (2006) also asked participants to rate various descriptors in terms of their importance to defining their “concept of sex.” Some of these descriptors were more agentically oriented (e.g., power, domination), whereas others were more communally oriented (e.g., closeness, respect). Narcissists reported placing more importance on agentic descriptors and less importance on communal descriptors compared to less narcissistic participants. Finally, the agentic sexual orientation of narcissists appeared to explain their penchant for short-term, uncommitted sexual relationships (i.e., unrestricted sociosexuality). In summary, narcissists emphasize personal rather than shared rewards stemming from sexual behavior. This approach to sex appears to dispose them to engage in relatively shallow, short-term sexual relationships. One of the many issues that is not entirely clear, however, is whether narcissists’ shortterm mating should be thought of as a strategy or a consequence. Foster et al. (2006) suggested that engaging in numerous short-term sexual liaisons may best facilitate, for example, the goal of deriving sexual pleasure without the “burden” of emotional intimacy. Viewed this way, the short-term mating of narcissists can be thought of as a strategy for pursuing agentic sexual outcomes. It is also true, however, that pursuing agentic sexual outcomes to the exclusion of communal outcomes will likely prove detrimental to the long-term viability of sexual relationships. To the extent that sex promotes bonding (e.g., Morris, 1999), de-emphasizing communal sexual outcomes

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may undermine a critical mechanism that keeps couples intact, thus limiting narcissists to short-term sexual relationships. In a related vein, it is not at all clear to what extent the sexual behavior of narcissists is influenced by their sexual partners. Nearly all of the research that has examined narcissism and sex (and more generally, narcissism and relationships) has done so from the perspective of the narcissist. Consequently, we know almost nothing about the sexual partners of narcissists. As we noted above, the agentic orientation of narcissists may preclude them from longterm sexual relationships. It is unclear, for example, whether this is because narcissists eventually tire of their partners or because their partners tire of them; that is, who initiates the split? Our understanding of the sex lives of narcissists would be greatly served by research that examines the perspectives of both narcissists and their partners.

Narcissism and Aggression. Of all the research on narcissism and relationships, perhaps none is more important than the study of aggression. Aggression is one area of research in the domain of narcissism and relationships that consequently has received considerable empirical attention. It is also one of the few areas of narcissism and relationships research that has examined multiple types of relationships (e.g., romantic relationships, peer groups). We begin this discussion by examining the general link between narcissism and aggression, since this is what most of the research focuses on. We then examine what this and other research suggests about narcissism and aggression within relationships. The dispositional makeup of narcissists suggests that they should be prone to aggression. Consistent with this, narcissists self-report high levels of dispositional vengeance, anger, hostility, and verbal and physical aggression (Brown, 2004; Locke, 2009; Rhodewalt & Morf, 1995; Ruiz, Smith, & Rhodewalt, 2001). The behavioral evidence of the link between narcissism and aggression is, however, more complicated. A question that has spurred much behavioral research is whether narcissists are always more aggressive than the average person or whether narcissism only predicts provoked aggression, that is, aggression that follows provocation (Bettencourt, Talley, Benjamin, & Valentine, 2006). A second question that has attracted empirical attention is whether narcissistic aggression is specifically directed toward those who offend them, or whether they also exhibit what is referred to as displaced aggression, that is, aggression directed against individuals unconnected to prior provocations. Some research suggests that narcissists must first be provoked before their elevated aggression manifests. In a seminal study on narcissism and aggression (Bushman & Baumeister, 1998, Study 2), participants wrote essays that were ostensibly evaluated by other participants. In reality, participants

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received prewritten evaluations that were either very positive or very negative. Next, participants played a reaction time game against the person who supposedly wrote the positive or negative evaluation. In the context of a game, participants were given the opportunity to administer noise blasts to the “other participants.” The volume of the noise blasts represented aggression (i.e., higher volume noise blasts indicated higher aggression). The results of this study revealed that narcissism level positively predicted aggression, but only when participants thought they were competing against someone who had negatively evaluated their essay. In other words, narcissists were only aggressive against those who threatened their positive selfconception. If anything, there was a slight (albeit non-significant) negative association between narcissism and aggression when participants thought they were competing against someone who positively evaluated their essay. Participants in a separate condition were also given positive or negative evaluations and played the game against a supposed third-party individual uninvolved in the evaluation. Narcissists did not aggress strongly against the innocent third party even when they had received negative feedback earlier. That is, they did not display displaced aggression. In short then, the results of this study suggest that while narcissists can be exceptionally aggressive, their aggression may only occur following provocation and is specifically directed toward those who offend them. The finding that narcissists are prone to aggression following provocation has been extended in the literature, in particular by studies that have examined social exclusion. Given the universal importance of belonging (Baumeister & Leary, 1995; Leary, Tambor, Terdal, & Downs, 1995), Twenge and Campbell (2003) reasoned that being excluded by a group acts as an ego threat to narcissists much like receiving a negative evaluation of one’s work. Therefore, socially excluding narcissists should provoke their wrath. To test this they formed groups of participants and asked them to spend several minutes getting to know each other. Following this, participants were asked to nominate two individuals from their group whom they would like to continue to work with in a future group activity. Participants were then taken to separate rooms where they were informed (by random assignment) that either (1) nobody had selected them to work on the group activity or (2) everyone had selected them. Finally, they played a reaction time game to assess aggression similar to that used in the study discussed above (Bushman & Baumeister, 1998). Variants of this general procedure were used in several studies. In one study (Twenge & Campbell, 2003, Study 3), all participants received the exclusionary feedback (i.e., nobody wanted to work with them). They then played the reaction time game against a randomly chosen member of the group that excluded them. As was predicted, narcissists in this study were significantly more aggressive than less narcissistic participants during the

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reaction time game. In a follow-up study, the authors tested whether narcissists would also exhibit displaced aggression. Half of the participants in this study received inclusionary feedback while the other half received exclusionary feedback. All participants then played the reaction time game against a supposed other person unaffiliated with the group that accepted or rejected them. The results of this study conflicted with Bushman and Baumeister’s (1998) to the extent that narcissism predicted stronger displaced aggression following rejection. Narcissism did not predict displaced aggression following acceptance. The authors reasoned that participants in their study were rejected by multiple members of the same group who were also members of the university at large where the study took place. Participants in Bushman and Baumeister’s (1998) study, on the other hand, received negative feedback from only a single individual. Therefore, it was possible that rejected participants in Twenge and Campbell’s (2003) study more strongly associated the rejecting group with the larger university group and thus took out their frustrations against an innocent member of the larger university group. Thus far, the research reviewed and additional research (e.g., Barry, Chaplin, & Grafeman, 2006; Bushman et al., 2009; Stucke & Sporer, 2002; Terrell, Hill, & Nagoshi, 2008; Thomaes, Bushman, Stegge, & Olthof, 2008; Thomaes, Stegge et al., 2008) strongly suggests that narcissists consistently exhibit provoked aggression and sometimes also exhibit displaced aggression depending upon whether the narcissist perceives the targeted individual to be connected in some way to the provocateur. With regard to provoked aggression, it is worth noting that the provocation need not be a direct insult or obvious social exclusion. Some research indeed suggests that narcissistic entitlement may create situations where simple refusals can be experienced by narcissists as provocations, thereby triggering aggressive responses. This idea is most prominent in theories that connect narcissism to sexual aggression, such as rape and sexual coercion (Baumeister, Catanese, & Wallace, 2002; Bushman, Bonacci, van Dijk, & Baumeister, 2003). Additional recent research suggests that narcissists may also be capable of exhibiting aggression even when entirely unprovoked. One study showed that men who scored higher on NPI subfactors of entitlement and exploitativeness administered longer and more powerful electric shocks to opponents in a reaction time game even when they were entirely unprovoked by their opponents or anyone else for that matter (e.g., they did not receive prior negative feedback, nor were they socially excluded, nor did their opponent shock them first) (Reidy, Zeichner, Foster, & Martinez, 2008). Finally, narcissists may also be capable of relatively pure forms of displaced aggression. In situations where rather than receiving negative feedback (e.g., bad test performance), participants instead anticipate receiving feedback at a later time (they do not know whether it will be positive or negative),

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narcissists tend to aggress against individuals unconnected to the feedback that they anticipate (i.e., individuals who will play no role in providing the feedback) (Martinez, Zeichner, Reidy, & Miller, 2008). To summarize, narcissists are particularly prone to aggression following provocation and in some cases even in the absence of provocation. Although their aggression is often directed toward provocateurs, they are certainly capable of displacing their aggression against innocent third parties. Of course, aggression is by definition a relational behavior (with the exception of aggression directed toward the self). But what does the research suggest specifically about narcissism and aggression that occurs within relationships? Given what we know about narcissism and aggression, we would certainly expect to find narcissism correlated with specific acts of relational aggression, such as sexual aggression (e.g., rape, sexual coercion), intimate partner violence, and stalking behavior. With respect to sexual aggression, narcissism scores as assessed by the MCMI (Millon, 1992) predict a variety of sexual offender types, including adult rapists (Chantry & Craig, 1994). Interviews of convicted rapists likewise suggest a tendency for them to possess inflated positive views of the self, which is consistent with narcissistic personality (Scully, 1990). With regard to intimate partner violence, MCMI scores for narcissism predict higher rates of intimate partner violence (Beasley & Stoltenberg, 1992; Simmons, Lehmann, Cobb, & Fowler, 2005) and higher recidivism rates for spousal abuse (Hamberger & Hastings, 1990). One recent study used the exploitativeness and entitlement factors of the NPI to predict physical dating violence and sexual coercion in men and women (Ryan, Weikel, & Sprechini, 2008). Narcissism predicted elevated sexual coercion in women, but not men. Furthermore, narcissism predicted descriptively (albeit non-significantly) higher rates of physical assault in both men and women. The relatively small sample (N = 70) used in this study may have undermined statistical power resulting in non-significant associations. Finally, narcissism has been proposed to be one of the core traits underlying stalking behavior (Meloy, 1996). Research certainly supports this position, with narcissism being a relatively strong predictor of stalking proneness (e.g., acceptance of stalking; Asada, Eunsoon, Levine, & Ferrara, 2004) and actual stalking behaviors (Meloy, 1999); although interestingly, narcissism appears to be a stronger predictor of stalking by men than women (Meloy & Boyd, 2003). Additionally, the potential for physical violence associated with stalking has been linked to narcissism (Meloy, 2003). In summary, the existing literature suggests a clear trend for narcissistic individuals to engage more frequently in a variety of forms of relational aggression.

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SHIFTING ADAPTIVENESS OF NARCISSISM ACROSS RELATIONSHIPS After reviewing the literature on narcissism and relationships, it would be easy to come away with the impression that narcissism exclusively predicts negative relational outcomes. Although we have discussed a few ways that narcissism helps relationships (e.g., facilitates attraction and short-term mating), the vast majority of the research points to negative effects or functions. One thing that we have noticed concerning this literature is that most of the positive aspects of narcissism exist within the contexts of relationship formation and early relationships, whereas many of the negative aspects of narcissism seem to emerge later in the relationship lifecycle. The benefits of narcissism with respect to relationships stem primarily from the dispositional makeup of narcissists. Narcissists are highly extraverted and socially skilled, at least to the extent that they tend to be immediately likeable. Narcissists are able to quickly establish relationships with others and these relationships may at first be quite exciting and satisfying (it is fun to be with the life of the party). Because narcissists are capable of being strongly committed to their relationships, especially during the heady early days of relationships when times are good, new relationships involving narcissists may exhibit many of the hallmarks of healthy relationships, such as high commitment. If the early functioning of relationships involving narcissists were examined, it would be entirely possible to conclude that narcissism provides a net benefit to relationships. Relationships involving narcissists unfortunately will probably suffer from a number of eventual problems. Although narcissists are capable of strong commitment, their commitment is strongly tied to how happy they are in their present relationship and whether they could do better elsewhere. Because these evaluations are likely to fluctuate during the course of any relationship, one should expect narcissists’ commitment to fluctuate more strongly than the commitment of less narcissistic individuals. For example, a typical argument that only slightly reduces the commitment of a nonnarcissist (we assume that the argument has temporarily lowered relationship satisfaction) might drastically lower the commitment of a narcissist. This type of heightened volatility is not likely to bode well for long-term relationship stability or survival. Narcissists’ agentic orientation is another factor likely to undermine long-term relationship functioning. Narcissists do not view themselves in communal terms nor do they value communal traits in themselves or others. Narcissists are therefore unlikely to act in ways that promote intimacy and other relational qualities important to long-term functioning. Because narcissists are attracted to relationship partners with strong agentic traits (e.g., beauty) and are repulsed by relationship partners with strong

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communal traits (e.g., kindness), it is likewise not only the narcissists, but also their partners who may think and act in ways that ultimately undermine the long-term viability of their relationships. Finally, it is not just that narcissists fail to act in ways that facilitate longterm relationship functioning, it is also that narcissists act in ways that directly tear apart their relationships. We earlier discussed how narcissists are prone to aggression, particularly when provoked. If one assumes, for example, that provocations coming from intimate partners tend to be more upsetting than provocations coming from strangers, narcissists’ documented aggression toward strangers has especially troubling implications for their relationships. Even if no physical aggression occurs, one would expect to see stronger forms of other types of aggression (e.g., verbal aggression) in relationships that involve narcissists. Narcissists’ quick tempers and aggressive demeanors may ultimately cause serious damage to their relationships. In sum, there are a variety of reasons to expect narcissistic personality to facilitate relationship formation and early relationship functioning. There are even more reasons to expect narcissism to undermine long-term relationship functioning. We now turn to a couple of studies that more directly test the tenability of these hypotheses. A host of studies have examined the short- and long-term interpersonal costs and benefits of narcissism. While a couple of these studies focus specifically on narcissistic personality, most examine more general related phenomena such as positive illusions and self-enhancement (e.g., Colvin, Block, & Funder, 1995; Robins & Beer, 2001; Taylor & Brown, 1988). Paulhus (1998) published one of the first sets of studies that examined narcissism specifically. In these studies, participants who scored higher or lower on the NPI met with other members of a group for seven sessions. Members of the group rated each other on several dimensions (e.g., agreeableness, adjustment) after the first and last session. What Paulhus observed conflicted with much of the prior research on self-enhancement, which generally portrayed self-enhancement as exclusively good (Taylor & Brown, 1988) or bad (Colvin et al., 1995). Rather than being consistently adaptive or maladaptive, Paulhus observed that narcissism was correlated with generally positive ratings by others after the first group session. For example, narcissists were rated by other group members as agreeable, well-adjusted, and entertaining. The fact that group members perceived narcissists as agreeable is particularly interesting because narcissists actually tend to score low on measures of agreeableness (Bradlee & Emmons, 1992). In other words, narcissists seemed to present themselves effectively in ways that were positive and sometimes very different from reality. Did these positive perceptions of narcissists last throughout the study? No. By the last session, ratings had turned dramatically with narcissists viewed as disagreeable, not well-adjusted, and not particularly entertaining. They were additionally perceived as arrogant and hostile. In

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short, Paulhus’ (1998) findings are very consistent with what we would predict given the general nature of narcissism. Narcissists are able to make very favorable interpersonal first impressions. Over time, however, the impressions that people have of narcissists turn sour. That is, narcissism is socially adaptive in the short term and socially maladaptive in the long-term. Paulhus’ (1998) research focused exclusively on interpersonal perceptions amongst members of groups. How well does this research generalize to other types of relationships, such as close relationships? There is unfortunately very little in the way of published research to guide us. Unpublished research from our own labs, however, suggests that narcissism is also adaptive in the short term and maladaptive in the long term for close relationships. In one study (Foster, Shrira, & Campbell, 2003), male and female participants were asked to reflect upon two prior romantic relationships, one involving a narcissist and another involving someone not very narcissistic. To make sure that participants were using similar definitions of narcissism when selecting romantic partners to consider, they were given descriptions of narcissists and non-narcissists based on the existing narcissism literature (e.g., narcissists tend to have high opinions about themselves, non-narcissists tend to have more moderate opinions about themselves). Participants next recorded how they experienced their relationships with these romantic partners. They did so by drawing a line on a graph that had a vertical axis representing the rating level (e.g., low to high satisfaction) and a horizontal axis representing time (i.e., from the beginning of the relationship to the relationship’s termination). Thus, the lines represented the trajectories of their experiences. Participants recorded three trajectories reflecting satisfaction, excitement, and emotional intimacy. Initial analyses of the trajectories revealed that on average participants reported that their relationships with narcissists were less satisfying and emotionally intimate, but not more or less exciting than their relationships with non-narcissists. If not analyzed further, one would probably walk away from this study with a “narcissism is entirely bad for relationships” point of view. Like Paulhus (1998) showed, however, the devil is in the detail. When only the early stages of relationships were examined, the results were very clear: Relationships with narcissists were more exciting and more satisfying than relationships with non-narcissists. Relationships involving narcissists, however, did not end quite so well. Indeed, participants reported that the excitement and satisfaction that they felt early on in their relationships with narcissists deteriorated to such an extent that by the end of their relationships they considered them to be significantly less exciting and satisfying than their relationships with less narcissistic romantic partners. Figure 14.1 shows the excitement trajectory as an example of the shift that was observed. To summarize, relationships with narcissists were recalled as being more exciting and satisfying than relationships with non-narcissists at the beginning, but less

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exciting and satisfying at the end. The only rating that did not change was emotional intimacy. Relationships with narcissists were, not surprisingly, always recalled as being less emotionally intimate than relationships with non-narcissists. The results of this study suggest that the mixed blessing of narcissism that Paulhus (1998) observed within groups extends to close relationships. Of course, more research is needed before we can make firm conclusions about the shifting adaptiveness of narcissism. The trajectory study, for example, only examined three relationship perceptions by the romantic partners of narcissists. More research is needed to clarify what and how perceptions are affected by narcissism. Research is likewise needed that examines how these perceptions affect relationship functioning and how this varies across different types of relationships. Research in these areas will help us to better understand the complex dynamics that occur within relationships involving narcissists.

Excitement (higher scores indicate more excitement)

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Figure 14.1 Trajectory of Excitement Across Course of Relationships with Narcissistic and Non-narcissistic Romantic Partners

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CONCLUSION The goal of this chapter was to review the literature on narcissism and relationships, paying particular attention to the relational costs and benefits of narcissistic personality. The literature generally indicates that narcissism negatively impacts the long-term functioning of all types of relationships. There are nevertheless some relational benefits to being narcissistic. In particular, narcissism appears to facilitate relationship formation and to some degree short-term relationship functioning. Perhaps the most striking thing that we noticed while reviewing the literature is that considerably more research is needed on just about every topic connected to narcissism and relationships. It is interesting to note that although the NPI has been around for 30 years, nearly half of the research that has employed the NPI has been published within the last five years (statement based on search of Social Science Citation Index® conducted February 16, 2009 for articles that cite Raskin & Terry, 1988). Thus, there has been a recent explosion of empirical interest in narcissism. To the extent that this newfound interest extends to the study of narcissism and relationships, we are hopeful that many of the questions that are currently unanswered will be answered in the near future.

NOTE 1 As an aside, although narcissists tend not to be committed to their romantic partners, they seem to have little doubt that their romantic partners are committed to them (Foster & Campbell, 2005).

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15

Living Single: Lightening Up those Dark, Dopey Myths Bella DePaulo

When I was invited to write this chapter on living single for this new Dark Side volume, I was both honored and offended. Honored, because the Dark Side series is terrific. What self-respecting relationships scholar does not have a few volumes adorning a bookshelf? Offended, because how dare anyone suggest that the topic of living single belongs with other writings on ominous relationship topics such as rejection, narcissism, in-laws, aggression, and interpersonal violence? I went back and forth with the editors, and they assured me that they did not mean to disparage singles. When they also quickly agreed to allow me to craft my own snarky subtitle, “Lightening up those dark, dopey myths,” I agreed, too. As I write this chapter, I am 55 years old and I have always been single. I have an inkling of what others think of people like me—people who are single long past the age at which most who will marry have already done so, some of them over and over again. Of course, I have my personal stories—at first, that’s all I had—but now I have a whole passel of studies as well. Experimental research shows that perceptions others have of singles are rather dark. Compared to people who are married, singles are seen as sad, lonely, and self-centered. In the popular view of things, we singles are “alone” and “don’t have anyone”; there’s probably something wrong somewhere (DePaulo, 2006). It is not just the aging singles who are seen that way, although older is linked with darker when it comes to perceptions of singlehood. Even

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20-something year olds are perceived more negatively when they are single than when they are married, or when they are not in a romantic relationship, compared to when they are. More on all of that later. Personally, I never had wedding fantasies. I never designed some big white dress in my head nor did I keep a mental list of bridesmaid candidates. Except for all of the singlism (the term I coined for the stereotypes, stigma, and discrimination against singles), I’ve always liked living single. I rarely said so quite so explicitly, and anyway, I thought I was the exception. I had seen the many headlines proclaiming that if only I would get married, I would be happier, healthier, live longer, and all the rest. Many of the stories in the popular press were supposedly based on scientific research. For decades, most of my research was on another topic (the social psychology of deception), so I had not read any of the original journal articles myself. The party line about the transformative power of getting married did not seem to be challenged, so I believed it. When I first decided to study single life rather than just practice it, I already had a storyline in mind. Singles did not enjoy the same levels of well-being as people who had gotten married, I thought, because they were targets of stereotyping and stigma, and were often socially excluded in a society so preoccupied with couples. I planned to look very closely at the literature on life outcomes, to see whether there were some subcategories of singles who were less disadvantaged (relative to people who got married) than others. That way, maybe I could start to figure out what it was about single life, other than singlism and matrimania (my term, again, for the over-the-top hyping of marriage and weddings), that accounted for singles’ poorer outcomes. Once I studied the literature and did some of my own research, I found that there were, indeed, negative perceptions of singles and evidence of discrimination as well. What I never did find, though, was any compelling evidence that getting married resulted in lasting improvements in happiness, health, or any other measure of well-being. That really surprised me. Eventually, I also figured out why the conventional wisdom about the supposed benefits of getting married was so wrong, and why even smart and serious scholars were getting it wrong. My trip through the stacks of research on marital status left me with a whole different question. Rather than trying to explain why getting married resulted in psychological benefits, I needed to figure out why single people were faring much better than the conventional wisdom suggested. Plus, how could they be doing so well when they really were targets of singlism? Before I tell you the rest of that story, though, let me first cover some of the basics. What do I mean by single? And, how unusual is it to be single in contemporary American society and around the globe?

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WHO COUNTS AS SINGLE? The most straightforward definition of single is the legal one—single people are adults who are not officially, legally married. The legal definition is consequential. It is the criterion for access to a wide variety of benefits and protections—more than 1,000 in federal statutes alone (DePaulo, 2006). In everyday life, though, often what matters more is whether people are socially coupled or socially single. Here, the criteria are not so straightforward. Other people try to infer your coupled status from a variety of cues; for example, do you seem to be in a romantic relationship? Does it seem to be a long-term one? Are you living with the person? Whether you are considered socially coupled, though, does not depend on your sexual orientation; there are no culture wars over whether same-sex people can be coupled. Individuals have their own perceptions of whether or not they are coupled. These personal definitions of coupled status may or may not correspond with other people’s perceptions (the social definition).

SINGLES IN SOCIETY: WHAT IS THE DEMOGRAPHIC PICTURE? In 2007, the New York Times made a splash with the headline, “51% of women are now living without spouse” (Roberts, 2007). That number was calculated in ways I do not favor; for example, people 15 and older were included in the counts, thereby inflating the number of singles. I like to count starting at age 18. As of 2007, according to the U.S. Census Bureau, 92.8 million Americans (18 and older, women and men) were legally single. That’s 41.7% of the adult population. The legally single category includes people who are divorced, widowed, and have always been single. (The Census Bureau uses the label “never married” rather than always-single.) Cohabitors—now described by the Census Bureau as members of “unmarried-partner households”—are also included in those numbers. In 2006, there were 12 million cohabitors, including 1.56 million in same-sex households. When the 12 million cohabitors are subtracted from the number of legally single people (and those who are separated continue to be left out of the count), there are 80.8 million Americans who are single. That’s 36% of the adult population. Among those millions, in 2006, were 12.9 million single parents; 10.4 million were single mothers. Perhaps the more remarkable statistic is that Americans now spend more years of their adult lives unmarried than married (DePaulo, 2006). This reversal of past patterns is the result of a number of converging demographic trends, including an increase in the age at which people first marry (if they marry), and a rate of divorce that continues to be high (if not still climbing).

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There are also many single women later in life; life-spans have been increasing, and women continue to outlive men. The trend toward spending more time single is not specific to the United States. Across 192 countries, people who, by age 30, had always been single increased from 15% in the 1970s to 24% in the 1990s. The increase was greater for developed countries: In the 1990s, 38% of the women and 57% of the men reached the end of their twenties without ever marrying (World Fertility Report, 2003). The growing number of singles in the United States, and the many years that American adults spend living single, is also noteworthy because the rate of marrying is so high. As Cherlin (2009) has documented in his research on Western nations, “The percentage of people who are projected to marry [in the United States]—close to 90 percent—is higher than elsewhere. Yet the United States has the highest divorce rate in the Western world, higher even than vanguard countries such as Sweden (p. 4).” Americans, says Cherlin, are on a “marriage-go-round,” stepping on and off the marital ride more often than any other Westerners.

ARE SINGLE PEOPLE ALONE, UNATTACHED, AND PINING FOR A PARTNER? In everyday life, people who are single are often described as “alone” or “unattached.” This colloquial way of thinking seems to rest on the premise that unless you have a romantic partner, you don’t have anyone—you are alone and unattached. Let’s set aside the prejudice that only conjugal partners count, and look at the science. Do singles have important people in their lives or are they truly alone? If they do have people who are important to them, are their relationships with those people true attachments in the scientific sense? And if singles do have important people in their lives, and if they have true attachments too, aren’t they still pining for romantic partners?

Personal Relationships of People Who Are Single There have been hints, for as long as journalists and scholars have been conducting qualitative studies of single life, that single women are hardly alone. (Unfortunately, a disproportionate chunk of the research on singles is only about single women.) For example, an intensive study of 50 women, ages 65 to 105, who had always been single (Simon, 1987) showed that only one was socially isolated. The other 49 women had a total of 47 friends they were in touch with every day (16 of those friendships had been ongoing for more than 40 years), and another 98 friends with whom they were in contact once or twice a week. A more recent random sample survey of 1,714 American

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women, ages 25 to 72, showed that the women who had always been single and those who were previously married spent significantly more time with friends than did the women who were currently married (Carr, 2008). Analyses of two more national surveys of Americans (including both men and women) revealed that people who have always been single do more to maintain interpersonal ties than currently married people do (with the previously married typically in between). Specifically, always-single adults are more likely to visit, contact, advise, and support their siblings, and they are also more likely to socialize with, encourage, and help their friends and neighbors (Gerstel & Sarkisian, 2006). Adults who have always been single are also more likely to be the keepers of intergenerational ties. They more often stay in contact with their parents and give or receive practical, emotional, or financial help. Differences in time demands, resources or needs, or extended family characteristics do not account for these disparities. When all of those factors, as well as demographic ones, are controlled, single people still do more to maintain relationships with their parents than currently married people do (Sarkisian & Gerstel, 2008). Even in later life, single cannot be equated with “alone.” A prospective study of 1,532 Americans, 65 and older, who started out married, showed that those who became widowed did not become more isolated (Ha, 2008). Six months after becoming widowed, they had more support from their adult children than they had before. Eighteen months into their widowed life, they were less likely to have a confidant than they were when they were married and they were no longer receiving heightened support from their grown children. However, by then they were more likely to have support from friends and relatives.

Attachment Relationships of People Who Are Single Research on adult attachments (like most other research on adult relationships) has focused overwhelmingly on people who are coupled. The first few studies of the attachments of single adults are beginning to appear, and they provide a stern note of caution to those who are tempted to continue describing single people as “unattached.” In a study of 812 Australians, ages 16 to 90, Doherty and Feeney (2004) asked about four vital attachment components. The participants could nominate up to five people in response to questions about having a secure base (“who do you feel will always be there for you if you need them?”), a safe haven (“who do you turn to for comfort when you are feeling upset or down?”), a target for their proximity-seeking (“who is it important for you to see/talk with regularly?”), and a person whose absence creates separation protest (“who do you not like to be away from?”).

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The authors used a stringent criterion for what they called a “full-blown attachment.” To qualify, the attachment figure had to be named as one of the most important on all four components. (It was possible to have more than one such attachment.) Of those people who did have romantic partners (whether married or not), 74% had full-blown attachments to their partner. Is it possible to have a full-blown adult attachment relationship that is not with a romantic partner? Yes. Thirty percent had full-blown attachments to at least one friend, 22% had such attachments to at least one sibling, 40% had a full-blown attachment to their mother, 16% to their father, and 40% who had offspring had a full-blown attachment to at least one of them. The authors also calculated each person’s primary attachment figure—the person with the highest score across all four components, regardless of whether that primary attachment was a full-blown one. For 77% of coupled people, their partner was their primary attachment figure. For the single (uncoupled) people, their primary attachment figure was most often a friend, 37%; their mother, 37%; an offspring, 11%; a sibling, 10%; or their father, 5%. A second study compared the attachments of coupled people to singles who reported that they had not been in a committed relationship for at least three years and probably would not be within the next year or so (Schachner, Shaver, & Gillath, 2008). In addition to assessing the four components, the authors measured two dimensions, anxiety (e.g., “I worry about being abandoned”), and avoidance (e.g., “I feel comfortable depending on others,” reverse-scored). Overall, the singles and couples did not differ on anxiety or avoidance, nor were there any differences when the women were considered separately. Looking just at the men, there was a difference, but only for anxiety: The single men reported more attachment anxiety than the coupled men. The singles and couples also did not differ in the number of people who fulfilled the four different attachment needs for them. Couples, of course, more often named partners as attachment figures than singles did. Singles were more likely than couples to name best friends as the people they especially liked to see and talk to regularly (proximity), and they were more likely to mention sisters as a secure base (a person with whom they felt secure, comfortable, and encouraged).

Are Single People Pining for a Partner? Perhaps one of the most persistent beliefs about people who are single is that what they care about, more than anything else, is becoming unsingle (DePaulo, 2006). Research suggests that this conventional wisdom is a myth. The Pew Internet & American Life Project surveyed more than 3,000 American adults of all ages and marital statuses (Rainie & Malden, 2006).

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They asked the single participants (divorced, widowed, and always-single) whether they were in a committed relationship and whether they were looking for a partner. Twenty-six percent said that they were already in a committed relationship. The biggest group, though, 55%, said that they were not in a committed relationship and that they were not looking for a partner. Only 16% said that they were not in a committed relationship but were looking. (The other 3% did not answer.) Even when the younger singles (ages 18 to 29) were analyzed separately, the number who said that they were not in a committed relationship but were looking increased to just 22%. Later in life (65 and older), among the widowed, men are more likely than women to remarry. Yet, in her analysis of the data from the Changing Lives of Older Couples study, Carr (2004) found that 18 months after the death of their spouse, fewer than half of the men were interested in remarrying or even dating. What was important was whether they had better than average emotional support from friends; if so, they were no more interested than women were in dating or remarrying.

IMPLICATIONS OF GETTING MARRIED: CRACKING THE CODE OF THE SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH Now I want to turn to the heart of the matter. What does the social science research really say about the implications of getting married for health, happiness, or anything else that interests you? Before I get to the substance, stay with me while I describe my favorite hypothetical study. Understanding what’s wrong with this study is key to figuring out what has gone so terribly wrong in the story that has been told about marital status in the popular press, and sometimes even in the scientific literature. This make-believe study is about a make-believe drug I’ll call Shamster. It is not a drug for people who are ailing, but instead for people who just want to feel better than they already do. The drug company that is peddling Shamster offers the drug to 2,200 people in 48 states. All of the people get to decide for themselves whether or not they want to take Shamster. If they do decide to try it, they can stop taking it if they don’t like it. Some of the people start taking Shamster but eventually can’t get any more for reasons beyond their control. After a while, the drug company asks all the people to answer the question, “Taking all things together, how happy would you say you are these days?” They record their answers on a four-point scale, where 1 means “not at all happy”; 2 indicates “not too happy”; 3 corresponds to “pretty happy”; and 4 is the most positive response, “very happy.” In reporting the results, the drug company separates the participants into four groups. One is the group of people who decided to take the drug and

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are still on it. The other three groups are not on the drug. One of those never did take the drug. Another took it, disliked it (sometimes intensely), and stopped taking it. The last were those who took it for a while but then could not access it anymore. The company was absolutely delighted with the results. Here are the mean happiness ratings for the four groups: 3.3 Drug (chose to take the drug and still on it) 3.2 No drug (never did choose to take it) 2.9 No drug—intolerable (took the drug at first but disliked it and stopped) 2.9 No drug—withdrawn (took the drug at first but could no longer access it) The company wants to publish its study in the prestigious New England Journal of Medicine (NEJM). It also wants to run ads touting the greater wellbeing of people taking Shamster than people not taking it. From all the research it has done so far, it has a good idea of how tolerable Shamster is— of the many thousands of people who have tried it, about 43% dislike it and decide not to continue. Now it has started the next series of studies. It is trying to learn what exactly it is about Shamster that makes it such a great drug. Would you, as editor of NEJM, accept the Shamster study for publication? Okay, stop laughing. Let me make the question less preposterous: Would you, as the instructor for an introductory research methods class, accept this design for a study from an undergraduate? I didn’t think so. What about the general television-viewing public? Suppose they saw an ad describing this study and its results fairly. (This is still a hypothetical so I can pretend that ads are even-handed.) So, viewers learn that people who never took the drug have happiness levels of 3.2 (out of 4). People who take the drug have happiness levels of 3.3, as long as you don’t count the 43% of the people who took the drug, hated it, and refused to continue taking it (and whose happiness levels average out to 2.9). Do you think they would be persuaded that they, too, should take the drug?

Getting Married and Getting Happy The Shamster study is representative of much of the published research on marital status and life outcomes. Seriously. In fact, the design and results that I reported are from a real study (Gove & Shin, 1989), based in fact on 2,200 Americans from 48 states who answered precisely the question I described

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previously. As you probably anticipated, the four hypothetical drug groups correspond to four actual marital status groups: Drug (chose to take the drug and still on it) = currently married No drug (never did choose to take it) = always single No drug—intolerable (took the drug at first but disliked it and stopped) = divorced No drug—withdrawn (took the drug at first but could no longer access it) = widowed Scientists who set out to study the implications of getting married face a formidable obstacle that does not stand in the way of drug researchers—they cannot randomly assign people to get married, stay single, or get divorced or widowed. They can, though, be clear and accurate about what their results really do mean. Descriptively, it is accurate to say that people who are currently married are slightly happier than those who are not currently married. However, it is not scientifically justifiable to say that they are happier because they got married. The divorced and widowed people got married, too, but they are less happy than the people who had always been single. It is not even appropriate to conclude that you will be happier if you get married and stay married. That would assume that if the divorced people had stayed married, they too would have been happier than single people. In the study described above (Gove & Shin, 1989), the authors were appropriately cautious about their findings. Others who have used their work as the basis for claims about marriage have not always been so careful. For example, Waite and Gallagher’s (2000) often-cited book, The Case for Marriage: Why Married People Are Happier, Healthier, and Better Off Financially, is filled with references to studies similar to this one to make their bogus case. Apart from the ethically impossible method of randomly assigning people to marital statuses, the next best approach is the longitudinal study of lives over time. The most impressive longitudinal study of happiness is based on more than 30,000 Germans, 16 and older, who have been reporting on their happiness once a year for 19 years and counting. Lucas and his colleagues have tracked participants’ happiness as they got married and stayed married (Lucas & Clark, 2006; Lucas, Clark, Georgellis, & Diener, 2003), became widowed (Lucas et al., 2003) or divorced (Lucas, 2005; Lucas et al., 2003) or stayed single (reported in DePaulo, 2006). Life satisfaction was rated on an 11-point scale, 0 to 10, with higher numbers indicating greater happiness. Those who got married and stayed married during the course of the study (comparable to the currently married group in cross-sectional research) became slightly happier around the time of the wedding (about one-quarter

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of a point), then they went back to being about as happy as they were when they were single. By getting married, they did not become lastingly happier— they just enjoyed a brief honeymoon effect. Those who got married and then divorced were already becoming less happy, rather than more so, as their wedding day drew nearer. Then their happiness continued to decrease until the year before their divorce became official. At the start of the study, those who would stay single were slightly less happy (7.0) than those who would eventually marry and stay married (7.2), and slightly happier than those who would eventually marry and then divorce (6.9). The happiness of the single people declined about four-tenths of a point over the course of the study, reaching a low of 6.6. For most years of the study, the people who stayed single reported greater happiness than those who married and then divorced. Their happiness levels never reached the low point experienced by those who divorced (6.2) or became widowed (6.0). Note, too, that the midpoint of the happiness rating scale was 5. The mean for the single people was always squarely on the happy end of the scale— especially for those who stayed single the entire time.

Getting Married and Getting Healthy Now let’s examine the related claim that people who marry become healthier. The key studies are again longitudinal, but I’ll start with the more commonplace cross-sectional reports. Starting in 1972, a nationally representative sample of Americans, ages 25 to 80, has been recruited each year to describe their health as part of the National Health Interview Survey. (They are different people each time.) In 2008, Liu and Umberson reported the results of the first 31 years of surveys. Participants were asked to rate their health as poor, fair, good, or excellent. See Table 15.1 for the percentages of people who rated their health as either good or excellent for 2003, the most recent data available to the authors. The pattern is similar to what we saw for happiness. Those who stayed single are barely distinguishable from those who got married and stayed married. Those who got married then separated, divorced, or became widowed have lower levels of overall health than those who stayed single or stayed married, but the differences are not big. Comparable patterns for American samples have been reported by Marks, Bumpass, and Jun (2004) and by the CDC (2004, and critiqued in DePaulo, 2006). In a brief review of the health and marital status literature, Rook and Zettel (2005) also described similar findings. One cross-sectional study is especially worth noting because it included measures of 18 different health conditions, including fatal chronic diseases as well as less serious problems. Pienta, Hayward, and Jenkins (2000) analyzed

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15. LIVING SINGLE TABLE 15.1

National Health Interview-Survey: Health and Marital Status, 2003 % With Good or Excellent Health

Marital status

92.9 92.6 91.0 89.4 86.6

Currently married Always single Divorced Separated Widowed

the first wave of data from the Health and Retirement Study, collected in 1992 from a nationally representative sample of 9,333 Americans between the ages of 51 and 61. The adults who had always been single more closely approximated the currently married in their health than did the divorced or widowed. In fact, for six of the 18 measures—including four of the six fatal chronic illnesses—the always-single adults had nonsignificantly better health than the currently married. They also had better health than the divorced and widowed on all 18 measures. (Significance tests were not reported for those comparisons.) In a sample of 11,131 Canadians (White, 1992), adults who had always been single reported health that was as good or better than that of adults who were currently married. As shown in Table 15.2, their reports of their overall health (1 = poor; 4 = excellent) were the same. More of the singles, though, reported having no health problems, and they also reported fewer doctor visits than did any other group. Again, those who got married and then got unmarried had somewhat worse health. A study of more than 10,000 Australian women is also telling. Cwikel, Gramotnev, and Lee (2006) wondered how women’s health held up by the time they reached their mid-seventies. They compared women who had always been single and had no children to married women who had no children and those who did have children, and to previously married women with and without children. The always-single women did the same or better than the other 70-something-year-old women on every measure. They were TABLE 15.2

Health and Marital Status: Canadian Samples Marital Status

% With No Problems

# Doctor Consultations

Subjective Health

Currently married Always single Divorced Widowed

51 68 50 20

2.4 2.2 2.5 2.7

3.1 3.1 3.0 2.7

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the least likely to have had a diagnosis of a major health problem, least likely to be smokers, and most likely to be non-drinkers. They were the most physically active and had the best body mass index. The always-single women did not differ from the other women in number of symptoms, doctor visits, falls requiring medical attention, hospital admissions, surgical procedures, or their overall levels of physical functioning. They were also no more likely to be receiving care from a family member. As with happiness (or any other outcome), the most compelling conclusions come from studies in which the same people are followed over time. With regard to health, there are no longitudinal datasets comparable to the one on happiness that Lucas and his colleagues have been analyzing, with decades of data on the same people. There are, however, some shorter-term longitudinal studies of the health implications of staying single, getting married, or getting unmarried (divorced or widowed). When cross-sectional data show that the currently-married report better health than the previously married (and sometimes, the always-single), is that because it is good for your health to get married (the transition from being single to being married) or because it is bad for your health when a marriage ends? Williams and Umberson (2004) addressed this question with a nationally representative sample of Americans, ages 24 to 98, who were asked to rate their health at two different points in time, separated by about four years. Their conclusion was that “marital status differences in health appear to reflect the strains of marital dissolution more than they reflect any benefits of marriage” (p. 81). The only evidence that getting married was good for health was for men, and only for the year or so just after the wedding (comparable to the honeymoon effect that Lucas found for happiness). For men, becoming widowed was a hazard to their health, but only initially. Getting divorced was actually good for men’s health when it happened during young adulthood or mid-life. Women got no health bonus for marrying, not even during the honeymoon period. The fate of their health over the course of the four years did not depend on whether they stayed single, got married, or got unmarried. Another longitudinal study of health began in 1992 with more than 9,000 Americans between the ages of 51 and 61 (Dupre & Meadows, 2007). They were interviewed every other year until 2000. The rates of disease for the people who had always been single were compared with a select set of married people—those who got married and stayed married. There were no differences. (Don’t look for that in the abstract or text—the authors don’t mention it. You can only find it in Tables 2 and 3.) There was only one finding suggesting that getting married had implications for health, and it was a negative one: Women who got married at age 18 or younger were at greater risk of developing a serious health problem. The authors concluded that what matters more than your current marital status is whether you have gotten married and unmarried repeatedly (usually a bad thing), and how

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long you have been in each marital status (longer is typically better for health, although there are exceptions). In one last longitudinal study, a nationally representative sample of 9,775 Canadians, ages 20 to 64, was assessed in 1994 or 1995 and again two years later (Wu & Hart, 2002). The authors were particularly interested in marital transitions, and they also wanted to see whether the health implications of cohabitation would differ from those for marriage. The very first sentence of their article proclaimed that “Empirical research has almost unequivocally found that the married enjoy better mental and physical health than the unmarried” (p. 420). If you have read nothing about marital status and outcomes other than this chapter, you already know that there are problems with this statement and risks to using it as grounds for predicting that getting married would result in better health. The authors, though, were undeterred. Not only did they think that getting married would improve health; they also predicted that “the transition from singleness to a nonmarital union will bring about positive health outcomes” (p. 422), too. Wrong! Transitioning from single status into either a cohabiting relationship or into marriage just did not matter with regard to health, either for men or for women. It didn’t matter for overall self-reported health and it didn’t matter for “functional health,” an index comprising vision, hearing, speech, pain, discomfort, mobility, dexterity, cognition, and emotion. (Relevant to the next section of this chapter, it also didn’t matter for a composite measure of depression.) What did matter was becoming uncoupled (from either a marriage or a cohabiting relationship). For both the men and the women, dissolving a union resulted in worse physical health, greater depression, or both. There was one more result that did not fit with the authors’ opening declaration of the supposedly unequivocal health advantages of married people. Some of the people in the study stayed in their marital or cohabiting unions over the two-year period, and others stayed single. Guess whose health got worse during that time? The coupled people’s! The authors can only speculate as to why that happened. My “favorite” suggestion of theirs is this one: “It is also possible that because only 2 years separate Time 1 and Time 2, some union conflicts have yet to lead to union dissolution. In such cases, a decline in physical or mental health may precede exiting a union” (p. 430). Get it? These troubled couples just haven’t put an end to their marriage or union yet. Once they do, then they will be out of the “currently married” group, and the health of the people remaining in that group will look better. (Of course, none of the proposed interpretations took on the question of why the people who stayed single maintain their good health or even improved it.) The last word goes to Liu and Umberson (2008). In the concluding paragraph of the report of their 31-year study (not longitudinal), they advise

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that “encouraging marriage in order to promote health may be misguided. In fact, getting married increases one’s risk for eventual marital dissolution, and marital dissolution seems to be worse for self-rated health now than at any point in the past three decades” (p. 252).

Getting Married and Getting Depressed In 2007, the website of MSNBC ran a story under the headline, “New treatment for depression—marriage.” Before you head to the altar to cure your depression, let’s see what the data really do say. Cross-sectional research reveals a familiar pattern. For example, in a study of 1,338 Canadians ages 18 through 55 (Turner & Lloyd, 1999), the currently married and the always-single were indistinguishable in depressive symptomatology and in recent major depressive episodes, once the usual demographic factors are controlled. Even with controls, the previously married (divorced, in this study) still showed somewhat more depressive symptoms than the currently married and always-single. Marks (1996) reported similar findings for an American sample. As always, longitudinal evidence is more persuasive, and there are a number of such studies of marital status and depression. A study of young adults found that those who got married between the ages of 21 and 24 did not become any less depressed than those who stayed single (Horwitz & White, 1991). A seven-year study of adults who were 18, 21, or 24 years old at the outset compared those who stayed single with the usual subset of those who got married—that is, only those who got married and stayed married (Horwitz, White, & Howell-White, 1996). The authors explained that they excluded anyone who got separated or divorced during the study “because they clearly are not deriving any benefits from marriage” (p. 899). You read that correctly. In a study of whether marriage is beneficial, the authors set aside those who clearly were not benefiting from marriage. Still, only the men, and not the women, became less depressed after marrying. One particular longitudinal dataset, the National Survey of Families and Households (NSFH), has been analyzed repeatedly for clues to the links between marital status and depression (Frech & Williams, 2007; Lamb, Lee, & DeMaris, 2003; Marks & Lambert, 1998; Simon, 2002). In the study, a national sample of Americans aged 19 and older participated in 1987 or 1988 and again about five years later. Different investigators looked at different age groups and zeroed in on different comparisons. What had become customary was the practice of setting aside those who married and then split up when testing the hypothesis that getting married results in less depression. The most recent analysis of the NSFH, and one that included more potentially relevant factors than the others, was reported by Frech and Williams (2007). They thought that any depression-relevant implications of

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getting married might depend on whether people were depressed before they married. They compared the people who were single at the first assessment and who stayed single with those who married and stayed married. Anyone who got married and then divorced was removed from the analysis. The 20% of the people who started out depressed at the first point in time did become less depressed if they married. The other 80%, who were not depressed at the outset, did not feel significantly less depressed upon marrying than did the people who stayed single. The authors added one more qualification: “In most cases, above-average marital happiness was necessary for conferring the psychological benefits of a transition into marriage.” So, in conclusion, people who get married become less depressed than people who stay single, as long as: (1) you focus on the 20% of the people who were already depressed before they married; (2) you set aside anyone who got married and then divorced; (3) you look primarily at those who, once they married, experienced greater than average marital happiness; and (4) your married group has been married no more than five years. By the way, this is the study that was the basis of MSNBC’s claim that marriage is a new treatment for depression.

Getting Married and Getting Less Lonely In review papers (e.g., Cacioppo & Hawkley, 2005), it is easy to find claims that marriage is linked to lower levels of loneliness. Go to the original sources that are cited, though (e.g., de Jong-Gierveld, 1987; Tornstam, 1992), and interpretive problems become immediately apparent. The data are crosssectional, and all of the unmarried people, including those who were previously married, are considered together, and compared with those who are currently married. So it is impossible to see the differences between those who actually did get married before becoming unmarried and those who stayed single. Even studies in which the previously married are included with the alwayssingle do not always show clear evidence that marriage is linked with less loneliness. Hawkley and her colleagues (2008), for example, found no overall difference between the currently married and the currently unmarried. A difference favoring the currently married was evident only when a subset of the currently married was compared with all of the unmarried—those who consider their spouse to be a confidant. In another example (Rokach, Matalon, Rokach, & Safarov, 2007), there were no differences in loneliness between the women who were currently married and all of the unmarried

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women; among the men, there was a significant difference favoring the currently married for only one of five loneliness subscales. In a study of people 65 and older (Victor, Scambler, Bowling, & Bond, 2005), those who had always been single, the currently married, and the previously married were all considered separately. The always-single people were lonelier than the currently married, but less lonely than the widowed. The divorced were similar to the always-single in their loneliness. As with other outcome variables, such as happiness and health, it is instructive to look at overall rates of the experience in question. Consistent with the story that is unfolding, rates of loneliness were generally low in all groups. For example, among the always-single people, only 9% said that they were often or always lonely, and 46% said they were never lonely. Sometimes emotional loneliness—the absence of closeness or intimacy— is distinguished from social loneliness—the lack of a network of social ties. If marriage is a special site for intimacy, then it should be particularly protective against emotional loneliness. In a study of 55- to 89-year-olds in which the currently married, the always-single, the divorced, and the widowed were all considered separately (Dykstra & de Jong Gierveld, 2004), there were bigger differences among the groups in emotional loneliness than social loneliness. For the men, emotional loneliness was most intense among the widowed and least among the currently married. Among the women, the previously married (widowed and divorced) were the most emotionally lonely. Women who had always been single reported very low levels of emotional loneliness, and were just as unlikely to be lonely as the women who were currently married. Remember, these were women averaging 72 years of age who had always been single. Stereotypically, they are the “old maids” living alone in their tiny apartments with a pack of cats. In fact, though, no other groups of women experience less emotional loneliness than they do. There are some longitudinal studies of loneliness in which the currently married, previously married, and the always-single are all considered separately. However, they are studies of older adults, so it is not possible to discern the implications for loneliness of becoming married for the first time (Jylha, 2004; Wenger & Burholt, 2004). What the studies do suggest is that one of the greatest vulnerabilities to loneliness in later life is the transition into widowhood. Stability—which can come from remaining married or remaining unmarried—can protect against loneliness.

Getting Married and Getting Sex There is no longitudinal study about sex comparable to the Lucas studies of happiness, in which the same people are followed over time, as they enter, exit, or remain in various marital statuses, and report on the frequency and

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quality of their sexual experiences along the way. All we have, then, are crosssectional data. Perhaps the most comprehensive contemporary study of sexual behavior is the National Sex Survey, conducted by Laumann and his colleagues (Laumann, Gagnon, Michael, & Michaels, 1994). They compared the currently married with the previously married (divorced, separated, or widowed) and with those who had always been single. For the previously married and the always-single, they looked separately at those who were cohabiting and those who were not. Table 15.3 shows the percentages in each category who were having sex more than once a week and who were extremely emotionally satisfied with their sex. It is not the currently married people, but the cohabitors, who are having sex most frequently. Consistent with the usual trends, within the cohabitors, it is the always-single who score higher than the previously married. Even among those who are not married and not cohabiting, more than 20% are having sex more than once a week. The story is similar for the percentage of people who are extremely emotionally satisfied with their sex. The most satisfied are the cohabitors— for men, the previously married cohabitors, and for women, the always-single cohabitors. The currently married are the next most satisfied. The group reporting the smallest percentage of people who were extremely emotionally satisfied with their sex, the previously married men who were not cohabiting, still had 23% who chose the most positive response option on a five-point scale. Canadians cannot save the hypothesis that marriage is linked to sexual bliss. A national sample of 1,582 Canadians (women only) responded to questions about three sexual concerns: Experiencing a lower sexual desire TABLE 15.3

National Sex Survey: Frequency of Sex and Emotional Satisfaction

Currently married Always single, cohabiting Always single, not cohabiting Divorced, separated, widowed, cohabiting Divorced, separated, widowed, not cohabiting

Frequency of Sex: More Than Once a Week (%)

Extremely Emotionally Satisfied with Sex (%)

Men

Women

Men

Women

43.4 55.9 26.4 55.5

38.5 59.8 20.3 50.9

48.9 35.2 32.4 52.6

42.1 44.1 31.4 36.5

25.0

20.5

23.0

27.4

Note: Based on Laumann et al. (1994), Tables 3.4 and 3.7. N for frequency of sex: 3,159. N for emotional satisfaction: 2,988.

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than they would like, experiencing orgasms infrequently during intercourse, and having pain during intercourse (Gruszecki, Forchuk, & Fisher, 2005). The three marital status groups—currently married, divorced or separated, and always-single—did not differ in their experiences of pain or orgasms during intercourse. There was a significant difference in desire—it was lowest for the currently married.

Getting Married and Living Longer This is a book about the dark side of relationships, and there is nothing darker than death. In popular accounts and even in some supposedly scientific reviews, getting married is said to be such a powerful transformation that it keeps death at bay. Or, as an esteemed scholar put it to me at dinner the other night, “Don’t married people live longer?” I can understand why people think this. Suppose you are just casually interested in the link between getting married and living longer. You’re a scientist, so you look at the actual journal articles (and not just the headlines in the media), but this isn’t your main area of interest or expertise, so you just read the abstracts. In one particularly good study of marital status and longevity—it was based on a representative national sample and it was a longitudinal study—the abstract ends with this: “CONCLUSIONS: Each of the non-marital status categories show elevated RR [relative risk] of death compared to married persons” (p. 1047). Now let me tell you what you will discover if you read beyond the abstract. First, here are more of the details about the methodology. The National Longitudinal Mortality Study (NLMS) was the source of data from 281,460 Americans who were at least 45 years old when they were first assessed for this report (Johnson, Backlund, Sorlie, & Loveless, 2000). Their mortality was tracked for a maximum of 11 years. The authors analyze mortality rates separately by eight different groups: Men and women who are Black or White and, when first assessed, were either 45 to 64 years old, or 65 and older. Within those eight groups, the authors compare mortality rates of three different unmarried categories—widowed, divorced, and always-single—with the mortality rates of the currently married. Once again, these are not comparisons of all of the people who ever got married to all of the people who stayed single; they are comparisons of the currently married to the various categories of currently unmarried. Let’s look first at the people who had always been single. Among the Blacks, there are four subgroups. In three of them, there is no difference in mortality risk between the currently married Blacks and the Blacks who had always been single. Only for the younger Black males was the mortality risk higher (and even for them, the risk was nonsignificantly lower than it was for

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the previously married). The always-single Whites did have higher mortality rates than their currently married counterparts, though the effect was smaller for the older groups. These findings alone undermine the claim in the abstract. The authors can only declare that “each of the non-married categories show elevated RR of death, compared to the married persons” if they pretend that they did not really include in their study any older Black men or any Black women of any age. Now let’s turn to the results for the currently divorced. In seven of the eight groups, the divorced people had higher mortality risks than the currently married. (The older Black men were the exception.) The mortality risks were generally similar for the widowed as for the always-single. As with other outcome variables, then, the risk is not so much in staying single as in getting married and then getting divorced. So what does this study offer as an answer to the question posed by my dinner companion: Will you in fact live longer if you get married? Not if you are among the 43% or so who marry and then divorce. Unless you are a Black man and you’ve already made it to age 65, getting divorced probably means that you will have a shorter life. What if you got married, wanted to divorce, but forced yourself to stay married in hopes of living longer? There’s no definitive, empirical answer to that. Theoretically, it is possible that staying in a marriage that is making you miserable could shorten your life rather than extend it. If you marry and become widowed, your mortality risk will sometimes be higher, but not as consistently so as if you marry and then divorce. If you marry and never get divorced and never become widowed—well, that means you died before your spouse did. The National Longitudinal Mortality Study tracked people for 11 years at most. There is another study (Tucker, Friedman, Wingard, & Schwartz, 1996) rarely if ever mentioned by those who tout the claim that getting married means getting to live longer. The participants were from the Terman LifeCycle Study, and were less diverse than those in the NLMS. (They were almost all White, and only those who were above average in IQ were selected.) Still, the study is significant because it is probably the longest-running study of mortality ever conducted. It started in 1921, with 1,528 11-year-olds. Scientists followed the participants for as long as they lived. The people who lived the longest were those who stayed single and those who got married and stayed married. People who divorced, or who divorced and remarried, had shorter lives. What mattered was consistency, not marriage. The results were the same for the women and the men.

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SO WHAT IS THE DARK SIDE OF LIVING SINGLE? I will review four dark sides to living single: Negative stereotypes, discrimination, interpersonal exclusion, and the experiences of atypical singles who really are unhappily single.

Stereotypes of Singles When my colleagues and I asked nearly 1,000 college students to think about either single or married people and list the characteristics that came to mind, we received an outpouring of glorification of married people and derogation of singles (Morris, DePaulo, Hertel, & Ritter, 2008). For example, 32% of those who were asked to describe married people spontaneously noted that they were loving; not one person described singles that way. Of those assigned to describe married people, 49% said they were kind, caring, and giving; only 2% of the participants describing singles listed those attributes. By less dramatic margins, married people were also more often described as happy, secure, faithful, and compromising. Singles were more likely to be described as lonely and shy. There were just two ways that singles were perceived more positively: They were more often characterized as independent, and as sociable, friendly, or fun. We also did studies in which we created profiles of single and married people that were identical except for their marital status and other experimentally manipulated characteristics (DePaulo & Morris, 2006; Morris et al., 2008). For example, in some studies, half of the people were described as 25 years old, and the others as 40. We showed the profiles to groups of undergraduates and people from the community and asked them to rate them on various scales. All of the groups rated the singles as less well-adjusted, more socially immature, more self-centered, and more envious than the married people (though also more independent and career-oriented). The differences were especially striking when participants were rating the 40-yearolds, but they also saw the 25-year-old single people more negatively than the 25-year-old married people whose profiles were otherwise identical. More than half of all Americans have not yet married by age 25, so it was sobering to find that even such young singles were stereotyped. In a subsequent study (Morris et al., 2008), we created profiles of people who were all described as students, and manipulated whether they were currently single, currently coupled, previously coupled, or always single. Even using the standard of coupling rather than marriage, the young people in our profiles were regarded more negatively when they were not currently in a romantic relationship or when they had not previously been in one.

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Discrimination Against Singles Single people are treated less fairly than married people in many ways, including some that are sanctioned by law (DePaulo, 2006; DePaulo & Morris, 2006). For example, employers can offer health benefits for spouses of married workers (and sometimes domestic partners), while not offering any comparable benefits to a sibling, a parent, a close friend, or any other important person in the lives of people who are single. That’s unequal compensation for the same work. Under the Family and Medical Leave Act, married people in eligible workplaces can take leave to care for a spouse, but single people cannot take advantage of the Act to care for anyone in their generation—nor can any of their peers take leave to care for them. The Social Security benefits earned by a married worker go to the spouse upon the worker’s death; those earned by a single worker go back into the system. Married men are paid more than single men, even when both are similar in age and work experience (reviewed in DePaulo, 2006). Whenever married couples pay less per person for auto insurance, club memberships, travel packages, or anything else, they are being subsidized by the single people who are paying more. In an analysis of a nationally representative sample, Byrne and Carr (2005) found that single people report experiencing more discrimination in everyday life than married people do; for example, they receive poorer service in restaurants and experience more condescending attitudes in their interpersonal interactions. There is also experimental evidence of housing discrimination against singles (Morris, Sinclair, & DePaulo, 2007). In three studies, participants read descriptions of three comparable applicants for a rental property and indicated the applicant to whom they would prefer to rent the property. Rental agents were far more likely to prefer a married couple (60%) to a cohabiting romantic couple (23%) or a pair of friends (17%). The undergraduates were even more biased; 80% of them chose the married couple, compared to 12% who chose the cohabiting couple and 8% who chose the friends. Undergraduates also greatly preferred a married couple (70%) to a single woman (18%) or a single man (12%). What’s more, people don’t think there is anything wrong with these biases. When participants in another study read about housing discrimination against singles, they reported that the practice was more fair and legitimate than similar housing discrimination against African Americans, gay people, or obese people (Morris et al., 2007).

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Interpersonal Exclusion of Single People As a romantic relationship becomes more serious, the couple spends more time alone (Milardo, Johnson, & Huston, 1983; Surra, 1985). Acquaintances and casual friends are marginalized gradually; close friends may still be included in some plans, but their opinions are taken less seriously (Johnson & Leslie, 1982). It cannot be determined from these studies whether the friends who are ditched as couples become closer are disproportionately single, but that does seem to be the perception of single people (DePaulo, 2006, 2009). Divorced and widowed people report something similar: Married couples become less central to their lives than they were when they were still married themselves (Milardo, 1987; Morgan, Carder, & Neal, 1997). Again, it is not clear whether the newly single withdraw from married couples, whether they are excluded, or both.

Experiences of Atypical Single People There is one more significant dark side to living single. I’ve reviewed the literature showing that most single people are doing just fine and are not pining for a partner. Still, there are more than 92 million unmarried Americans, and the typical description does not fit them all. If you are a single person who truly and deeply wants to be coupled, then all of the upbeat statistics in the world will not brighten your life.

INTO THE FUTURE We need to think more broadly and less stereotypically as we plan and evaluate research, and as we consider the real lives that single people lead. Here are some suggestions.

Reading or Reviewing Marital Status Research? Here Are Some Things to Keep in Mind Imagine, fellow researchers, that you could take the 43% of the people in the key group in your study who are least compliant with your hypothesis, and just set them aside. Would your pet hypothesis look better if you tested it with the remaining 57% of the participants? As of 2000, the likelihood of a marriage ending in divorce was at least 43% (Schoen & Canudas-Romo, 2006). When people doing marital status research remove from the group of people who got married all those who

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divorced, they are doing something comparable. If researchers want to make statements about the implications of getting married, then they need to include in the married group all those who ever got married, just as a drug company would have to base its effectiveness studies on all people who ever took the drug, and not just those who took it and liked it and kept taking it. When investigators find that the currently married do better in some way or another and then ask what it is about getting married that is so beneficial, they neglect a key answer: The currently married look better not because they got married, but because those who got married, hated it, and got divorced were taken out of the got-married group—or even used as evidence for how great it is to get married (as when marriage is extolled on the grounds that the currently married look better than the previously married). Amazingly, though, even with this tremendous advantage accorded to the currently married group, they do not always do better than people who have always been single. When they do have better outcomes than the alwayssingle, often the differences are unimpressive. Looking at all marital status groups, when one does less well than the others, it is typically the people who got married then got divorced or became widowed. Even for them, the negative implications of transitioning out of marriage often diminish over time. But isn’t it OK to say, in a purely descriptive way, that people who are currently married sometimes have better outcomes than people who currently are not married? It is, in the same way that it is fine to say that people currently taking Shamster are sometimes better off than people who never took it or who took it and then stopped taking it because they hated it. You can say that, but you can’t imply that if only you would get married, you too would have better outcomes. You could not even say that if you got married and stayed married, then you would have better outcomes, because that assumes that if divorced people had just stayed together, everything would be fine. There are other ways in which the deck has been stacked in favor of the currently married in marital status research. Consider, for example, studies in which the currently married do not do better than other groups overall, and so researchers then focus on a subset of the currently married, such as those who are especially happy in their marriages or those who view their spouse as a confidant, to see if they look better than the singles. Do you see the problem? There is no comparable selection with regard to the singles. So, the happiest married people are not compared to the happiest single people; instead, the happiest married people are compared to all single people. It is comparable to a drug company claiming that people who take the weight-loss drug Blogus, and who also exercise, lose more weight than all the people who do not take Blogus, including those who do and do not exercise.

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Doing Research? Here Are Some Suggestions If I wanted to stay in my place and write the expected chapter on marital status research, I would make the predictable suggestions for future research. I might say, for instance, that when we compare single and married people, we need to attend more to the different varieties of singles, such as rich and poor singles, singles of different races and ethnicities, singles of different sexual orientations, and singles in different parts of the world. I’d also say that we need to learn more about how cohabitation is relevant to our questions about marital status, and how we may need to evaluate earlier studies of cohabitation—when the practice was less commonplace and more stigmatized—differently from more recent ones. I’d also underscore the importance of longitudinal research. All of those are worthwhile directions for future research, but if that’s all we did, then years from now, we’d still be kicking around in the same old box of conventional wisdom. The problem is that such suggestions do nothing to challenge the assumption that marital (or coupled) status, and that status alone, should be at the center of our quest to understand our interpersonal lives. There’s something wrong with that. Actually, several things. First, now that Americans are spending more years of their adult lives unmarried than married, it is misguided to focus so overwhelmingly on marriage. Second, if getting married really were essential to a happy or healthy life, people who have always been single could not be doing as well as they are. To explain how singles can do so well, despite all of the singlism and matrimania, takes a different perspective. Third, looking so intently at the marital relationship, to the neglect of other relationships and life interests and pursuits, does an injustice to married people, too. An open-minded and broad-ranging approach to the study of adult relationships would not begin with the question of whether or not a person is married or coupled. Instead, a different set of questions would prevail. For example: Who are the important people in your lives? What do the concentric circles of your relationship life look like—who is in that innermost circle? Who are the people in the circles that emanate outward, including the circles of people who are not necessarily emotionally close but significant nonetheless (Fingerman, 2009)? What does your relationship portfolio look like, relative to what you wish it would look like? And, too, let’s put the whole panoply of relationships into the context of the entirety of our lives. Are you developing not just your relationship portfolio but your life portfolio? Are you pursuing the interests and passions that motivate and define you? Do you have not just the time with other people that you would like to have, but also your ideal quotient of solitude?

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Individual researchers who wish to focus on coupling should of course feel free to do so. But more of us need to break free of that conventional path, because the totality of our scholarship has fallen short of the big picture of our adult lives. In journals that publish adult relationship research, the studies that have appeared in their pages have overwhelmingly been examinations of marriage and coupling; forays into the wide-ranging world of friendship, for instance, or relationships with siblings, are harder to find (Fingerman & Hay, 2002). Developmental journals, of course, are stuffed with studies of friendship. It is as if the intellectual community as a whole has decided that friends are for kids. Influenced, perhaps, by the Ideology of Marriage and Family (DePaulo & Morris, 2005a, 2005b), in which it is assumed that just about everyone wants to marry, scholars look for evidence of misery and disease in the lives of people who are single, not stopping to ask first if living single is what they prefer (with rare exceptions, such as Dykstra, 1995). We are appropriately sensitive to the risks of feeling alone, so we have produced a cottage industry of studies of loneliness. Studies of solitude, on the other hand, are rare. This disproportion, too, seems to miss something significant about the way we are currently living our lives. There are now fewer American households comprising married parents and their children than of people living solo. This is a stunning change from, say, 1970, when 40% of households comprised mom, dad, and the kids, and only 17% were one-person households (see DePaulo & Morris, 2005a, for more details). We need to take seriously the possibility that more people are living solo not because they are isolated and lonely, but because they value their own time and space, and that living alone does not always mean being alone. We need to get beyond the focus on just the one most important person in our lives, even if that person is a friend rather than a conjugal partner. Looking at our personal communities, rather than just one significant other, tells us something about vulnerability and resilience. Spencer and Pahl (2006) made that clear in their research in which they asked adults to fill in the concentric circles of their own personal communities. Who, they asked, is there alongside you in that innermost circle? Who is in the other circles? The sets of circles corresponded to a variety of types of personal communities. Some, for instance, were partner-centered, typically with only the spouse in that most intimate circle. Not every married or coupled person had a partner-centered community; some of them had friends and family sprinkled throughout their inner circles. Other types of personal communities included friend-based and neighbor-based (in which friends and neighbors, respectively, have places in the inner circles) and professionalbased communities, in which people put their professional helpers (such as therapists or social workers) in their inner circle, and friends or family are missing or peripheral.

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So which two personal communities were most likely to be linked to poorer mental health? Unsurprisingly, professional-based communities took up one of the slots. The other? Partner-based communities. As the authors noted, people whose personal communities are so dominated by a partner “lack diverse sources of support.” They are vulnerable.

So Why Isn’t Single Life the “Dark Side” of Our Lives? Scholars and laypersons alike have screwed up the story of single life. We still think that singles are unhappy, unhealthy, and pining for a partner above all else when research shows that for most single people, that just isn’t so. What happened? Part of the problem, as Byrne and Carr (2005) have noted, is cultural lag. The place of singles in society has changed rapidly, and our perceptions have not caught up. In the late 1950s, before the advent of safe and effective birth control, before advances in reproductive science, and before the second women’s movement brought greater opportunities for economic independence for women, marriage really was more central to adult life than it is now. Having sex and having children without stigma or shame were linked to marriage; for women, so too was financial security. Now, women can pick up the check at work and the sperm at the bank; children of single parents are equal to other children under the law; and many adults can buy their own table settings without the subsidies of a wedding shower. Marriage is a choice, not a requirement. Our cultural conversations and media representations (DePaulo, 2006, 2009) and our academic journals and degree programs (DePaulo, Moran, & Trimberger, 2007) are mired in a marital state of mind. Take, for instance, the ways in which battles over same-sex marriage have dominated popular headlines and scholarly writings. In raising the question of why a person needs to have a partner of a different sex in order to have access to Family and Medical Leave, tax breaks, hospital visitation rights, and all the rest, few have taken a step back and asked why a person should need to have any kind of sexual partner at all in order to be protected and valued in such basic ways. Our conventional wisdom, especially as laypersons, is rooted in the here and now, with too little cognizance of how different the profiles of interpersonal relationships, sexual norms, and life tasks have been at different times and in different places (e.g., Coontz, 2005; D’Emilio & Freedman, 1988; Gillis, 1996). When the Ideology of Marriage and Family is so dominant, even single people who like their single lives do not realize that there is nothing unusual about that. I didn’t, until I read the research for myself. Maybe we are even reluctant to admit to our love of living single, as I once was. Maybe there are untold masses of single people keeping their happiness to

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themselves, thereby perpetuating the myth that we are all miserable and yearning to be coupled. Another reason for our unenlightened take on single life is that the singlism that really does exist is either unacknowledged or deemed legitimate when it is recognized, as my colleagues and I showed in our studies of housing discrimination (Morris et al., 2007). Have you ever said to yourself, while reading this chapter, “Oh, she’s biased because she is single?” It is something I’ve heard before. Yet, I have never, at conferences or classrooms or in casual conversations, heard anyone impugn the impartiality of scholars touting marital superiority, just because the scholars are married. We need to make some cultural space for those who are single—and everyone else who resides outside of the traditional marriage and family mythology—to live their lives fully and unapologetically. As scholars, we cannot let cultural presumptions—for example, that getting married must be a good thing—mar the way we conduct and interpret our research. (The same applies to work on the outcomes of single parenting, which has also been plagued with interpretive problems [DePaulo, 2006, 2009].) Our research should not be biased in favor of single or married people, but should be based on the highest scientific standards.

Still Stuck on Romance? Here’s the Singles-Friendly Payoff I’ve been at this for a while, so I know that many readers of this chapter will remain unconvinced. Let me take a stab at one more argument—that tamping down singlism and matrimania is not just good for single people, it is also good for anyone who is, or who wants to be coupled. Consider, for example, these snippets of research: •

•

In a prospective study (Gotlib, Lewinsohn, & Seeley, 1998), depression was assessed in a sample of 1,709 high school students and their marital status was then tracked for years. The women who married young (before age 24) were more likely to have been depressed as adolescents than the women who were still single at that age. Once they did marry, their marriages were more likely to be troubled. In a longitudinal study, more than 8,000 adolescents were interviewed when they were between the ages of 12 and 17, and then again a year later (Joyner & Udry, 2000). Those who became romantically involved between interviews experienced a greater increase in depression than those who did not. That happened even for the adolescents who were continuously involved, and not just for those who experienced break-ups.

436 •

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Or consider the research published under the title that says it all, “The strange case of sustained dedication to an unfulfilling relationship” (Slotter & Finkel, 2009). Why do people cling to a romantic partner who clearly is not fulfilling their needs? Why, too, do so many battered women return to their partners (Hamby, 1998)?

The explanations for these patterns are likely to be multi-faceted. Here I am simply making an observation. I think that the unchallenged dominance of the Ideology of Marriage and Family has made too many of us vulnerable. If we realize that single life can be a full and fulfilling life, then those who want to be coupled can pursue that goal from a position of strength—as something they want for all the positives they hope to get from it, and not just as something they end up in, or cling to, because they are so fearful of living single.

REFERENCES Byrne, A., & Carr, D. (2005). Caught in the cultural lag: The stigma of singlehood. Psychological Inquiry, 16, 84–91. Cacioppo, J. T., & Hawkley, L. C. (2005). People thinking about people: The vicious cycle of being a social outcast in one’s own mind. In K. D. Williams, J. P. Forgas, & W. von Hippel (Eds.), The social outcast: Ostracism, social exclusion, rejection, and bullying (pp. 91–108). New York: Psychology Press. Carr, D. (2004). The desire to date and remarry among older widows and widowers. Journal of Marriage and Family, 66, 1051–1068. Carr, D. (2008). Social and emotional well-being of single women in contemporary America. In R. M. Bell, & V. Yans (Eds.), Women on their own: Interdisciplinary perspectives on being single (pp. 58–81). New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2004). Marital status and health: United States, 1999–2002. Advance data, number 351. Hyattsville, MD: National Center for Health Statistics. Cherlin, A. J. (2009). The marriage-go-round: The state of marriage and the family in America today. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Coontz, S. (2005). Marriage, a history. New York: Viking. Cwikel, J., Gramotnev, H., & Lee, C. (2006). Never-married childless women in Australia: Health and social circumstances in older age. Social Science & Medicine, 62, 1991–2001. D’Emilio, J., & Freedman, E. B. (1988). Intimate matters: A history of sexuality in America. New York: Harper & Row. de Jong-Gierveld, J. (1987). Developing and testing a model of loneliness. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 53, 119–128. DePaulo, B. (2006). Singled out: How singles are stereotyped, stigmatized, and ignored, and still live happily ever after. New York: St. Martin’s Press. DePaulo, B. (2009). Single with attitude: Not your typical take on health and happiness, love and money, marriage and friendship. Seattle, WA: CreateSpace.

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Index

Page numbers in italics refers to a figure/table abandonment anxiety 353 ABCDE model 28 Abecassis, M. 311 abusive relationships: and narrative truth 79 Ackerman, R. A. 179 addiction 16; Internet 97–99, 114 address terms: in-law relationships 237; stepfamily relationships 262 adoptive families: and storytelling 73 adultery 176; see also infidelity affection exchange theory (AET) 147, 169; and affectionate communication 147, 148, 150, 151, 152; and in-law relationships 219–220 affectionate communication 145–170; disease transmission risk 158–159; and father–son relationships 150–151; light side of 150–154; as manipulation attempts 164–169; and mental health 152; misinterpretation risk 156–157; negative outcomes 145–146; and “no touch” policies 170; paradox of 146–154, 169; potential problems for receivers of 159–169; reasons for being beneficial 147–148; reasons for being negative 148–149; and reciprocity/non-reciprocity

440

154–156, 160–162; relational benefits 150–152; and relational boundary ambiguity 162–164, 166, 167; risks for senders 154–159; and romantic relationships 151; and sexual assault 169; and sexual harassment 169; social censure risk 157–158; and stress alleviation 152–154; theories explaining 146 affectionate letters: writing of and recovery from stress 153–154 Afifi, T. D. 252, 253, 255, 263 African Americans 106, 158, 182, 276, 302 age: and infidelity 183; and narcissism 385–386 age-gap relationships 39–59; average marital age differences 41, 41; and commitment 53, 54–55; dark side of 51–52; directions for future research 56–58; equity and social exchange perspective 46–47, 57; evolutionary perspectives 44–45, 50, 53, 54, 55, 56–57; findings and statistics on 40–43, 41; investment model in 54–55; and life satisfaction 52–53; outcomes 51, 52; prevalence of 43, 43, 59; and same-sex relationships 58; silver linings of 52–54; and similarity 48, 53; social

INDEX role perspective 47–48, 55, 57; societal perceptions and stereotyping of 39–40, 49–51, 59; sociocultural perspectives 45–49, 53, 54, 55, 56–57; theoretical perspectives on 43–49; and uncertainty reduction 48 aggression: and bullying 300; conceptualizing 298–300; definitions 298–299; intimate partner see intimate partner violence/aggression; and narcissism 393–396, 398; types of 299–300; verbal 299, 329; see also social aggression Agnew, Christopher R. 39–59 Ahuvia, A. C. 134 Albright, J. M. 129, 130, 133 alcohol consumption: and infidelity 180 Allen, E. S. 181 Amadeus (film) 1 Amato, P. R. 253 Andersen, P. A. 148 Anderson, K. L. 357 anger 341, 354–355 Arab Americans 177 Archer, J. 338 Arnold, P. 49 Aron, Arthur 175–189 Aron, E. 179 Asian Americans 177 Atkins, D. C. 182–183 attachment behavior: brain regions involved in 184–186; and evolutionary theory 186 attachment theory 13–14, 19, 21, 22, 178–179 attraction: and narcissism 388–389; studies on 23–24 attribution theory 354; and virtual groups 110–111 Aubé, J. 329 aversive interpersonal behaviors 3–4 Bachelor, The (tv show) 68 bald-on-record 163, 164, 166 Banker, B. S. 248 Banks, C. A. 49 Bartholomew, K. 14 Bassuk, E. L. 342 Baucom, D. H. 181

441 Baumeister, R. F. 12, 26, 147, 161–162, 395 Baxter, L. A. 18, 19, 75, 246–247, 251, 253–254, 260, 261 Beall, S. K. 85 Becker, K. 105 Beeman, A. K. 337, 357 Berg-Cross, L. 227 Berscheid, E. 26 Bettencourt, B. A. 353, 355 Bigbee, M. A. 304 bioevolutionary approach: and affectionate communication 146, 147, 148–149 biological factors: and infidelity 184–186 bipolar conceptions 11 birth stories 72–73 bistrategic controllers 309, 311 Bjørkly, S. 337 black couples 71; and in-law relationships 227; see also African Americans blogging 79 Booth, A. 180 Boulton, M. J. 303, 313 boundary ambiguity: and affectionate communication 162–164, 166, 167; stepfamily relationships 248 boundary coordination 18 boundary rule formation 17 boundary turbulence 18 Boyd, S. 102, 103 brain: and infidelity 184–186 Braithwaite, Dawn O. 18, 19, 243–264 breast cancer patients: and partner interference 205, 206; and relational uncertainty 202 bright side: relationship between dark side and 7–9, 8, 12, 26–27, 29 Brown, P. 163–164 Brown, R. 314 Bryant, C. M. 226, 234 Buckwalter, Dr. Galen 122 Bui, K.-V. T. 272 Bukowski, W. M. 311 bullying 300, 302, 303–304, 312; adverse consequences of 303; benefits of 312; interventions in 313 Bumpass, L. 244 Burgoon, J. K. 148 Burleson, B. R. 199

442 Burton, L. A. 304 Bushman, B. J. 395 Buss, D. M. 178, 187 Byrne, A. 429, 434 Campbell, W. K. 394, 395 Canary, D. J. 24, 228, 229, 230, 231 canonical narratives 68 Capaldi, D. M. 342 Caplan, S. E. 99 Carcedo, Rodrigo J. 1–29 Card, N. A. 301, 302, 305 caregiving: and in-laws 233–235 Cares, A. 336 Carr, D. 429, 434 Carson, C. L. 352 Cascardi, M. 337, 340 catharsis 69, 85, 86 Caughlin, J. P. 256 cell phones: and in-law relationships 237–238 Census Bureau (US) 411 Chemistry.com 122 Cherlin, A. J. 412 child abuse: and safe ground theory 17 childcare: and in-law support 232–233, 239 children: as source of happiness and fulfilment 272; spanking of 330–331, 342; and women’s relationship with incarcerated men 280, 284, 287, 289 chimpanzees 308, 309 China: caregiving relationships 233 Chinese Canadians 233 “Cinderella complex” 68 class differences: and in-law support 232 cliques 305, 307 CMC (computer-mediated communication) 95–115, 127; concerns over child safety 113; and deviation-amplifying effects 96; identity fraud concerns 113; impact of 95–96, 108; misrepresentation on 133; and online social interaction see online social interaction; and online support groups see online support groups; and virtual groups 108–112; see also Internet matching services

INDEX co-parenting relationships: in stepfamilies 257–259, 261 co-rumination 88 coercive controllers 309 coercive strategies 308–309, 315 cognitive valence theory 148 cognitive–behavioral model 21, 22; and online social interaction 99–100 cognitive-processing theory 86 coherence: and stories 66 Coleman, M. 249, 251, 257 Comfort, M. 269 commitment: and age-gap relationships 53, 54–55; and narcissism 390–391, 397; and relationships with incarcerated men 273, 274, 282–286, 282, 283, 287–288; and social exchange theory 273 communication: and stepfamily relationships 259–262 communication accommodation theory (CAT): and in-law relationships 221–222 communication privacy management theory see CPM communicative aggression (CA) 329, 330, 357–358 comparison levels (CL) 19–20, 22, 272, 273 compassion fatigue 88 competence: and intimate partner violence 342–343, 345; social aggression and social 310–311, 314 competition: between groups 306–307; for resources 308–309; within groups 307 computer-mediated communication see CMC conflict: and in-law relationships 226–228, 236 contamination sequences 87 coping: and narrative sense-making 69, 77, 84–87 correlational designs 23, 24 cortisol 152–153 Cosmides, L. L. 160 Cotterill, P. 222, 238, 239 courtship stories 70–71 Cowan, D. 226 Cowan, G. 50 Coyle, C. L. 238

INDEX CPM (communication privacy management) theory 17–18, 22, 224; and in-law relationships 220–221; and stepfamily relationships 253, 256 Crick, N. R. 204, 299, 301, 302, 304–305, 307 crowds 306 cults 166 cultural expectations: and family stories 72–73 culture: influence on in-law relationships 224–225 Cupach, William R. 2, 3, 4, 6, 8–9, 11, 14, 15, 27, 29, 127, 297–317, 352 Cwikel, J. 419 cyberstalking 114, 127 Dailey, R. M. 27 Daly, M. 19 dark side: aspects most frequently studied 4–5, 5; boundaries of 8; definition and characteristics of concept 3–4, 13; importance of study of 10–12; lay perceptions of 4; reflections about state of study of 26–29; relationship between bright side and 7–9, 8, 12, 26–27, 29; as a scientific concept 10; theories of personal relationships to be applied to study of 18–21; theories used in and reflections on 13–18, 21–22 darkness, types of 6–7, 7 Darwin, Charles 197 data analysis 24–25 date rape 126 dating relationships: and infidelity 175, 177, 179, 183; online see Internet matching services; and relational uncertainty 202, 203; and violence 332–333, 337 Datta, P. 225 Davis, R. A. 99 De Koster, W. 107–108 DeAndrea, David C. 95–115 death: and marital status 426–427 deception: and Internet 113–114; and Internet matching services 128–133 deficit model: and infidelity 177–178 deficit-comparison approach: and stepfamily relationships 244–245

443 Delsol, C. 343 DePaulo, Bella 409–436 depression: and in-law support 233; and infidelity 180; and marital status 25, 422–423, 435; and online social interaction 99–100 developmental perspectives 28–29 discourse analysis 25 discrimination: against singles 429 disease transmission: affectionate communication and risk of 158–159 dismissive avoidant attachment 178 DiVerniero, R. 255 divorce 81, 411; influence of conflict in in-law relationships on 226 Doherty, N. A. 413 Donn, J. E. 125 dual reproductive strategy 187, 189 Duck, S. 6, 7–8, 11, 82 Dunn, J. 24 Duvall, E. M. 226 eating disorders: and online support groups 104–105 Eckstein, N. 25 education: infidelity and level of 182; online 109 Edwards, J. N. 180 eHarmony 122, 136, 194 Ellison, N. 130, 131 emotion labor 165 emotional abuse 14, 330 emotional infidelity 19 emotions: reasons for concealing 165 envy: and siblings-in-law relationships 231–232 equity theory 19, 20 Erbert, L. A. 161, 163, 164, 166, 167 evolutionary theory 12, 19, 21–22, 147; and age-gap relationships 44–45, 50, 53, 54, 55, 56–57; and girls’ social aggression 308–310, 317; and in-law relationships 219–220; and infidelity 186–187 expectancy violations theory (EVT) 148, 149 experimental designs 23–24 externalization 87 extramarital sex 176–177; see also infidelity

444 face 348, 350; negative 149, 156, 160–161, 166–167, 350, 355; positive 149, 155, 156–157, 160–161, 350 face threats 156–157, 160, 161, 348, 352–353, 355 Facebook 79–80 Family and Medical Leave Act 429 family stories 71–74, 75, 76–77 fatal attraction 23, 26 father–son relationships 150–151 fearful avoidant attachment 178 Feeney, J. A. 413 Feinburg, M. E. 257 Felmlee, Diane H. 23, 26, 269–291 Felson, R. B. 336 feminist approaches: and in-law relationships 222; and intimate partner violence 338 Fiebert, M. S. 335, 341 Field, T. 170 Fine, M. A. 82, 249, 259 Finkelhor, D. 2 Fischer, L. R. 226, 232, 235, 236, 239 Fisher, Helen E. 122, 175–189 Fisher, W. R. 66, 84 Fivush, R. 86 Floyd, Kory 145–170 foggy mirror phenomenon 131 Follingstad, D. R. 337, 340 Forste, R. 182 Foster, Joshua D. 381–401 Fox, C. 313 Fox, N. 105 Frech, A. 422–423 Freud, Sigmund 392 Frieze, I. H. 336 Frost, J. H. 136 Frye, N. E. 329 future ideal self 130 Gaertner, S. L. 248 Galen, B. R. 299, 302 Gallagher, M. 417 gambling 99 Ganong, L. H. 249, 250 gay/lesbians see homosexuals; same-sex relationships Geiger, T. C. 302, 314 gender: and intimate partner violence 333, 335–341 gender differences: and family storytelling 72; and in-law

INDEX relationships 234–236, 239; and infidelity 180; and narcissism 385; in reproductive roles 19; and social aggression 301–303, 315 Gergen, K. J. 67, 70, 84 Gergen, M. M. 67, 70, 84 Gidron, Y. 86 girls’ social aggression 297–317; avoiding potential pitfalls of intervention efforts 313–316, 317; bright side of 310–312, 317; dark side of 303–305, 316; evolutionary perspective 308–310, 317; media coverage of 297–298, 302; negative impacts on victims 304; reasons 305–310, 313–314; and resource control theory 308–310, 311, 314, 315, 317; and social identity theory 306–308, 310–311, 313–314, 317 Glass, S. 184 Globerman, J. 233, 234, 235 Goetting, A. 219, 232, 233 Goffman, E. 348 Goldstein, S. E. 302 Golish, T. D. 228, 256 Gondolf, E. W. 337, 357 Gonzalez, D. M. 341 Goodall, H. L. 73 gossip 307, 312 Gottman, J. 312 Gould, Stephen Jay 11 Gouldner, A. W. 155, 160 Graduate, The (film) 39 Graham, E. E. 83, 84 grand approach 26–27 gravedressing 82 Greece: in-law relationships 224 Groot, W. 52–53 Grotpeter, J. K. 299, 302, 304, 307 Gryl, F. E. 337 Guinea Bissau 182 Hanson, R. K. 356 happiness: and marital status 416–418 Harvey, J. H. 18, 20–21, 81, 82 Haven, The 274 Hawker, D. S. J. 303 Hawkley, L. C. 423 Hawley, P. H. 308–309, 311, 316 Hazan, C. 14 health: and marital status 418–422, 419 Hewstone, M. 314

INDEX Hispanic Americans 182 Hitsch, G. J. 132, 134–135 HIV-infected adults: showing of affection to their children 158 Hobday, E. 218 Holliday, H. 312 Holmes, T. H. 4 Homans, G. C. 238 homosexuals: and infidelity 181–182; see also same-sex relationships Hoobler, G. D. 11, 114 Horiwitz, L. M. 4, 14 Hosmer, Rebecca A. 217–239 housing discrimination: and singles 429 Houtman, D. 107–108 Hunt, Leigh 145 hurt 208–209 hyperintimacy 114 hyperpersonal model 133 identity: constructing of in narrative sense-making 67 in groups/out groups: and girls’ social aggression 306–308; and stepfamilies 246–249 incarcerated men, relationships with 269–291; benefits 285, 286; and children 280, 284, 287, 289; and commitment 273, 274, 282–286, 282, 283, 287–288; criminal justice system barriers 289–290; descriptive statistics of study 276–277, 277; emotional and social costs 272; and feelings of love 280, 290; and financial cost of visiting 280–281, 287; limitations of study 288–289; and satisfaction 271–272, 274, 277–281, 278, 279, 286; and social exchange theory 287, 288; study methods 274–276; and women’s expectations 281 income: and infidelity 182–183 inconsistent nurturing as control (INC) perspective 16–17, 22 India: in-law relationships 225 indirect aggression 299, 300, 301 infertility 201, 203, 206, 210, 211 infidelity 9, 175–189; and age 183; attachment model 178–179; attitudes towards 176–177; biological factors associated with

445 184–186; data collection 188; deficit model of 177–178; and duration of primary relationship 183; and education level 182; evolutionary forces contributing to 186–187; future directions for research 187–189; and gender differences 180; and homosexuals 181–182; and income level/distribution 182–183; and intimate partner violence 353; investment model 178; lack of clear definition 187–188; and personality traits 179–180; positive outcomes of 189; prevalence rates 175–176; psychological and relationship factors associated with 177–180; and religious activity 182; role of race and culture 182; self-expansion model 179, 188; sociological and demographic factors associated with 180–183; at work 183 inhibition theory 86 in-law relationships 217–239; acceptance and rejection 228–230, 231; and address terms 237; bright side 219; and changes in technology 237–238; and communication accommodation theory 221–222; and communication privacy management theory 220–221; conflict and distance in 226–228, 236; cultural influences 224–225; and evolutionary theory 219–220; feminist approaches 222; gender differences 234–236, 239; negative stereotyping 217–218; and power 238–239; reasons for difficulties and complexity of 236–237; satisfaction and dissatisfaction 230–232; and support 232–235; and triadic research 238, 239; and triangular theory 222–224, 223, 236, 252–254 intent 328 interdependence theory 19–20; and relational turbulence 204–207 intergroup contact model 314 Internet 95–115; addiction 97–99, 114; advantages and disadvantages of communicating online 95–96; concerns over child safety and identity fraud 113; and

446 cyberstalking 114, 127; deception online 113–114; and virtual groups 108–112; see also online social interaction; online support groups Internet matching services 119–139; benefits 124–125, 139; and cascading nature of dissimilarity 137–138; caveats and limitations of research literature 123–124; costs and risks of 120, 125–128, 138; dangers of sexual predatory behavior 126–127; history and types of 121–122; and inverted development sequence of attraction 137; misrepresentation and deception 113, 128–133; numbers involved 120, 138; opportunities foregone 155–158; relationships formed seen as shallow 134–135; safety concerns 125–128; success in finding a partner data 136 intimate partner violence/aggression 327–359; chronicity and repetitiveness of 341–342; and communicative aggression 329, 330, 357–358; as competent 342–343, 345; definition 328; discrepancy in couple meta-perceptions and reports 331–332; effects of 344–347, 344; expressive domain of 340; functions of 334–335; and gender 333, 335–341; and infidelity 353; initiation of 337–338; motives 339–342; and narcissism 396; nature of 328–332; personal affect and identity negotiation (PAIN) model 348–359, 349; and power 338–341; as a reciprocal phenomenon 338; relational context 341–343; and relational estrangement 353–354; and same-sex relationships 339; and satisfaction 343; scope and prevalence of 332–334; and selfdefense 336–337, 343; types of 334; verbal conflict as spark to 356–358 inverted development sequence of attraction 137 investment model 284; and age-gap relationships 54–55; and commitment to a relationship 273, 284; and infidelity 178; and narcissism 390–391

INDEX Jackson, J. 227 Jacobson, N. S. 342, 343 Jaeger, M. E. 312 jealousy 7, 16, 202, 204, 206, 228, 289, 340–341, 355 Jenkins, S. S. 329 job, loss of 199–200 Jones, A. C. 68 Jorgenson, J. 237 Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 11 Karney, B. R. 329 Kelley, H. H. 271 Kernberg, Otto 382 Kim, M. 225 Kim, S. K. 225 King, L. A. 87 kissing: and disease transmission 158, 159 Knight, G. B. 353 Knobloch, L. K. 16, 201, 202, 203, 207, 208, 210 Koenig Kellas, Jody 63–88, 262 Kohut, Heinz 382 Korea: and in-law relationships 225 Kowalski, R. M. 3 Kranstuber, Haley 63–88 Kurdek, L. A. 249, 259 Kwong, M. J. 337 Labov, W. 66 Lafontaine, M. F. 341 Lai, D.W.L. 233 Langellier, K. M. 76 Langhinrichsen-Rohling, J. 332 Laumann, E. O. 176–177, 425 Lawson, A. 183 Lawson, H. M. 134 Leaper, C. 312 Leary, M. R. 147 Leck, K. 134 Lee, H. 225 Lehmiller, Justin J. 39–59 Leonard, K. E. 329, 342 Levinger, G. 28, 289 Levinson, S. C. 163–164 Levitt, M. J. 227 Lewandowski, G. W. 179 Lieberman, B. 177 lifespan development 28 Lim, M. M. 185

INDEX Liu, C. 183 Liu, H. 418, 421–422 loneliness: and marital status 423–424 longitudinal studies 23 love bombing 166 loyalty conflicts: and stepfamily relationships 252–254 Lussier, Y. 341 Lyubormirsky, S. 85 McAdams, D. P. 65–66, 72, 73, 87 McCarroll, J. E. 334, 357 McClanahan, K. K. 23–24 McClaren, R. M. 207–208 McMillen, C. 345 Magdol, L. 336 Makepiece, J. M. 336–337 Mandelbaum, J. 76 manipulation: and affectionate communication 164–169 Manusov, V. 67, 82 marital status research 430–434 Marks, N. F. 418, 422 Marotz-Baden, R. 226 marriage 434; and depression 25, 422–423, 435; and happiness 416–418; and health 418–422, 419; and in-law relationships 226, 227–228; and living longer 426–427; and loneliness 423–424; rates 175; same-sex 434; and satisfaction 12; and sex 424–426, 425; verbal aggression in first year of 329 master narratives 68–69, 72 Masuda, M. 82–83 Match.com 121–122 matching hypothesis 388 matching services: and Internet see Internet matching services mate poaching 169–170, 175–176 May–December relationships see age-gap relationships meadow voles 185 Mean Girls (film) 297–298, 316, 317 mental health: and affectionate communication 152 Merkle, E. R. 122 Merrill, D. M. 227, 235, 236 Messman, S. J. 24 meta-analyses 27–28 Metts, S. 83 Mettetal, G. 312

447 Mikulincer, M. 14 Milgram, Stanley 2 Miller, N. 353 Miller, Susan A. 269–291 Miner, K. N. 87 misinterpretation: affectionate communication and risk of 156–157; and Internet matching services 113, 128–133; and online communication 133 Mize, K. D. 336 monogamy 175, 186 Morgan, W. 17 Morman, M. T. 150, 151 Morr Serewicz, Mary Claire 217–239 mother-in-law see in-law relationships Mouradian, V. E. 337 Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus 1 Muñoz-Rivas, J. L. 337, 341 Murray, S. L. 71 MySpace 79–80 narcissism/narcissists 381–401; and age 385–386; agentic orientation of 388–389, 392, 393, 397; and aggression 393–396, 398; and attraction 388–389; benefits of 397, 401; as a clinical disorder 382–383; and close relationships 399–400; and commitment 390–391, 397; early impressions of 386–387, 399; factors undermining long-term relationship functioning 397–398; and gender differences 385; individual differences in 385–386; and intimate partner violence 396; and investment model 390–391; measurement of 384; origin of term 381; as a personality trait 383–384; personality traits of 386–387, 397; and sex 392–393; and sexual aggression 396; shifting adaptiveness of across relationships 397–400, 400; and stalking 396 Narcissistic Personality Disorder see NPD Narcissistic Personality Inventory see NPI Narcissus 381 narrative inheritance 73–74 narrative performance theory 76 narrative sense-making 63–88; benefits

448 64, 65–66; and communication skills 66; constructing individual and relational identities 67–69; coping with dark side of personal relationships through 69, 77, 84–87; dark side of storytelling 78–80; family stories 71–74, 75, 76–77; and master narratives 68–69, 72; motivations and functions of stories 75–76; and post-dissolutional relationships (PDRs) 82–84; and relational climate 76–78; and relational maintenance 74; relationship dissolution and loss stories 80, 81–82; relationship origin stories 70–71; situating in a theoretical context 65–69 narrative therapy research 86–87 narrative truth 79–80 National Longitudinal Mortality Study (NLMS) 426, 427 National Sex Survey 425, 425 National Survey of Families and Households (NSFH) 422 National Violence Against Women (NVAW) survey 336 need to belong theory (NBT) 147, 149 negative face 149, 156, 160–161, 166–167, 350, 355 Nelson, D. A. 302 “no touch” policies 170 nonreciprocity: expressing affectionate messages and risk of 154–156 Norrick, N. R. 78 Norton, M. I. 137–138 Norwood, K. 227, 228 NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) 382–383, 384 NPI (Narcissistic Personality Inventory) 384, 385, 396, 401 nuclear family 68, 245 obsessive relational intrusion 127 off-the-record 164 O’Keefe, M. 341 Olson, L. N. 337, 345 Olweus, D. 303 online dating see Internet matching services online social interaction 95–96, 97–108, 112; benefits 99–100; and cognitive–behavioral model 99–100;

INDEX disadvantages 100–101; duality of social support 101–108; and Internet addiction 97–99; see also online support groups online support groups 101–108, 112; and anonymity 103; destructive side of 104–108; and distance 103; easy access to 103–104; and esteem support 102; extreme communities 104–105; increasing of weak tie relationships 103; and interaction management 103–104; list of 102; racial hate groups 105–108 “Operation Match” 121 Osgood, C. 11 Owen, L. D. 342 Owen, W. F. 162 Owens, L. 314 oxytocin 147 Pahl, R. 433 PAIN (Personal Affect and Identity Negotiation) model 348–359, 349 pair-bonding 175, 184, 186 Paquette, J. A. 302 parenting stories 72–73 partner uncertainty 201, 202 Pauley, Perry M. 145–170 Paulhus, D.L. 398–399 peer acceptance: and social aggression 304 peer victimization see bullying Pennebaker, J. W. 69, 85, 86 Perfectmatch.com 122 Perlman, Daniel 1–29 personal affect and identity negotiation (PAIN) model 348–359, 349 personal relationships: theories of 18–21 personality traits: and infidelity 179–180; of narcissists 386–387, 397; narcissism as 383–384 perspective-taking 77–78 Peterson, E. E. 76 Pew Internet and American Life Project 124, 125, 414–415 Pfeiffer, S. K. 235 philandering see infidelity physical aggression 299, 301, 329 Pienta, A. M. 418–419 Pini, B. 222

INDEX Pittman, G. 75 Pittman, J. 341 Planalp, S. 75 platonic relationships 163–164 Platt, R. L. 180 Ploog, D. 165 “poker face” 165 politeness/politeness theory 149, 160, 163–164, 165, 166 polygyny 175 positive face 149, 155, 156–157, 160–161, 350 post-dissolutional communication (PDC) 83 post-dissolutional relationships (PDRs): and stories 82–84 power: and bullying 300; and in-law relationships 238–239; and intimate partner violence 338–341 prairie voles (Microtus ochrogaster) 184, 185 preference for online social interaction (POSI) 100, 113 prison: relationship with men in see incarcerated men, relationships with private information: revealing/concealing of 17–18 pro-anorexia movement: and Internet 104 prosocial strategies: and competition for resources 309 prototypes 4 Proulx, C. M. 12 psychological abuse 329–330 psychological disorders: and infidelity 180 Ptacek, J. 356 qualitative methodology 25 quantitative methodology 25 race: and infidelity 182 racial hate groups, online 105–108 rage 354–355, 356 Rahe, R. H. 4 rape 169 reciprocal altruism 160 reciprocity: and affectionate communication 154–156, 160–162; moral norm of 155 redemption sequences 87

449 rejection: and in-law relationships 228–230 relational aggression 299, 300, 301, 302 relational boundary ambiguity see boundary ambiguity Relational Dialectics Theory (RDT) 260–263 relational estrangement: and intimate personal violence 353–354 relational goal pursuit theory 14–15, 21, 22 relational maintenance: and narrative sense-making 74 relational turbulence 197–213; agenda for future research 209–213; benefits 211; definition 200; effect of on experiences of hurt 208–209; and interdependence processes 204–207; and partner interference 205–208, 209; and relational uncertainty 201–204, 207–208, 209; solutions 212–213; studies on causes and consequences 207–209; studying beyond courtship 211 relational uncertainty 15–16, 28, 201; and relational turbulence 201–204, 207–208, 209; and stepfamily relationships 254–255, 263 relationship development 28–29 relationship dissolution and loss stories 80, 81–82 relationship origin stories 70–71 relationship quality: and social exchange theory 271–274 religious activity: and infidelity 182 research methods 23–25 resource control theory: and girls’ social aggression 308–310, 311, 314, 315, 317 Rheingold, H. 101 Ribarsky, E. N. 68 Richardson, R. A. 122 ridicule 300 Riforgiate, S. 153 Rittenour, C. 228, 233 romantic relationships: and affectionate communication 151; relational turbulence in 200–209; transitions 198–199 Rook, K. S 12, 26–27, 418 Rusbult, C.E. 20, 178, 273

450 sabotage 6, 7 safe ground theory (SGT) 17, 22 Salieri, Antonio 1–2 same-sex relationships: and age-gap 43, 58; and intimate partner violence 339; and marriage 434 Samson, C. 183 Santos, J. D. 227 Sarantakos, S. 337 satisfaction: and age-gap relationships 52–53; and in-law relationships 230–232; and intimate partner violence 343; in relationships 271–273; and relationships with incarcerated men 271–272, 274, 277–281, 278, 279, 286 Schmeeckle, M. 250 Schmidt, M. H. 105 Schrodt, Paul 243–264 Schuster, M. A. 158 Schwartz, D. 303 Schwartz, Pepper 122 scientific concept: dark side as 10 Scott Peck, M. 212 Seal, D. 181 secondary traumatic distress 88 self-defense: and intimate partner violence 336–337 self-expansion model: and infidelity 179, 188 self-regulation theory 86 self uncertainty 201, 202 sex: and marital status 424–426, 425; and narcissism 392–393 sexual abuse: relation to infidelity 180 sexual aggression 7; and narcissism 395, 396 sexual assault: and affectionate communication 169 sexual attraction 19 sexual double standard 50 sexual harassment 157–158; and affectionate communication 169 sexual reproduction: and age-gap relationship 44–45 “sexy sons” theory 187 Shackelford, T. K. 178, 336 Shaffer, H. J. 98 shame 354–355 Sharkey, W. F. 312 Shaver, P. 14 Sherman, R. C. 125

INDEX Shotland, R. L. 126 sibling-in-law relationship 231–232 Singer, M. 166 single(s) 409–436; attachment relationships 413–414; definition 411; demographic picture 411–412; and depression 422–423; discrimination against 429; and happiness 416–418; and health 418–422, 419; interpersonal exclusion of 430; and living longer 426–427; and loneliness 423–424; and marital status research 430–434; negative perceptions and stereotypes of 409–410, 428; personal relationships of 412–413; and sex 424–425, 425; wanting to become unsingle myth 414–415 Snyder, D. K. 188 social aggression: bright side of 310–312; dark side of 303–305; definition 299; and gender differences 301–303, 315; girls’ see girls’ social aggression; negative impacts of on victims 304; and peer acceptance and rejection 304; and social competence 310–311, 314 social centrality hypothesis 309 social exchange interdependence model 271, 273 social exchange theory 19–21, 22, 270; and affectionate communication 148; and age-gap relationships 46–47; and relationship quality 271–274; and relationships with incarcerated men 287, 288 social identity theory: and girls’ social aggression 306–308, 310–311, 313–314, 317 social interaction, online see online social interaction social networking: and in-law relationships 238; see also online social interaction social role theory: and age-gap relationships 47–48 socialization: and family storytelling 75 sociocultural approach: and affectionate communication 146, 148, 149; and age-gap relationships 45–49, 53, 54, 55, 56–57 Soliz, J. 228, 233

INDEX Solomon, Denise Haunani 197–213 Sorenson, K. A. 82 spanking: of children 330–331, 342 Sparks, E. A. 26 Speer, R. B. 251 Spencer, L. 433 Spitzberg, Brian H. 2, 3, 4, 6, 8–9, 11, 14, 15, 27, 29, 114, 127, 327–359 spoiling 6, 7 Sprecher, Susan 119–139 stalking 330, 345; and cyberstalking 114, 127; meta-analyses of 27; motives for 27; and narcissism 396; and relational goal pursuit theory 14–15 Star Wars 7 stepfamilies: number of 244; types of 248 stepfamily relationships 243–264; address terms 262; affinity seeking and maintaining strategies 250; and biological “owness” issue 250; boundary ambiguity issues 248; and co-parenting 257–259, 261; communicative ambivalence 259–262, 263; and deficitcomparison approach 244–245; (dys)functional ambivalence 245; in group/out group distinctions 246–249; loyalty conflicts and feelings of triangulation 252–254, 257, 263; and Relational Dialectics Theory (RDT) 260–263; relational and emotional ambivalence 252–259; relational uncertainty and topic avoidance 254–256, 263; residential/non-residential parents 251, 261–262; role ambivalence in 246–252, 263; stigmatization of stepmothers 50 Sternberg, R. J. 70 Stewart, S. D. 244, 248 Stone, E. 72, 75 stories/storytelling see narrative sensemaking Straus, M. A. 335, 337 stress alleviation: and affectionate communication 152–154 Stroebe, M. 86 structuration theory 257–258 suicide: and pro-suicide groups online 105

451 support: and in-law relationships 232–235; online see online support groups Surra, C. A. 75 Swan, S. 337 “sweaty-shirt” experiment 185–186 Taiwan: in-law relationships 224–225 Tanfer, K. 182 Taylor, L. 341 Taylor, S. E. 147 teasing 300 tend-and-befriend theory (TBT) 147, 149 Terman Life-Cycle Study 427 Testa, M. 329, 342 Texas Gang Investigators Association 106 Theiss, Jennifer A. 197–213 Thibaut, J. W. 271 Thoennes, N. 342 Thompson, A. P. 176, 177 Thompson, M. 136 Timmer, S. G. 226 Tisak, M. S. 302 Tjaden, P. 342 Toma, C. L. 132–133 Tong, Stephanie Tom 95–115 Tooby, J. 160 topic avoidance: and stepfamilies 255–256 transitions 198–199, 210, 211; negative and positive impact of 199–200; relational turbulence during see relational turbulence Trees, A. R. 78, 251 Treister, L. 341 triadic research: and in-law relationships 238, 239 triangular theory: and in-law relationships 222–224, 223, 236, 252–254 Trivers, R. L. 160 True.com 126 Tsapelas, Irene 175–189 Twenge, Jean M. 381–401 Twitter 79–80 Umberson, D. 357, 418, 420, 421–422 uncertainty reduction theory 15–16; and age-gap relationships 48

452 Underwood, M. K. 299, 300, 302, 305, 313, 315 unrequited love 161–162 van den Berg, S. A. 10 van den Brink, H. M. 52–53 Vangelisti, A. L. 11, 329 vasopressin (V1a) receptors 184–185 Vatnar, S. K. B. 337 Vaughn, H. 238 Vera-Sanso, P. 225 verbal aggression 299, 329 verbal conflict: as spark to intimate partner violence/aggression 356–358 Veroff, J. 71, 226, 228 vicarious traumatization 88 violence 7; intimate partner see intimate partner violence 327; various forms and interpretations of 330–331 virtual communities 96, 101–102; see also online support groups virtual groups 108–112 Vivian, D. 332, 337, 341 Waite, L. J. 417 Waletsky, J. 66 Walther, Joseph B. 95–115

INDEX Walum, H. 185 Warren, Dr. Neil Clark 122 Watt, J. H. 10 Webb, L. M. 227, 228 Weber, A. L. 25, 81 Weber, K. M. 202 Weiner, B. 351 Weiss, R. S. 81 Wenzel, A. 18, 20–21 Werner, N. E. 304–305 Whisman, M. A. 188 White supremacist groups, online 105–106 Widmer, E. D. 177 Wiederman, M. W. 181 Willer, Erin K. 63–88, 297–317 Williams, K. 420, 422–423 Williams, S. L. 336 Wilson, M. 19 Wilson, S. R. 17 Wolf, M. 225 women see gender differences work, infidelity at 183 Wright, T. 184 Yoo, Y. J. 225 Yoshimura, C.G. 231 Zettel, L. A. 418